The Demon Within
by Malayla24
Summary: Diablo has return, and this time he is looking for revenge on the Demon Hunter that trapped him in the black soulstone. With the Prime Evil free once again, Balthier must seek a way to destroy him once and for all. But can he give up the very thing that holds him together? Sometimes, the stakes are just too high. Post ROS. {M. Demon Hunter x OC} IN REVISION!
1. The Hunt

**Author Note: Hey guys! ^_^ This is my very first fanfic, and since this is my first fanfic, any constructive criticism is welcome. So please feel free to review, it would help me so much! Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoy!  
>I also finally redone this chapter to fit in a little better with the rest of the story. I'm not sure if I'll redo chapter two yet or not, but I'm looking into it!<strong>

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><p>Balthier stood on the edge of a raised platform in the Pandemonium Fortress, watching silently as the angel of death fell to his demise. The battle was a long and strenuous one, but he had managed to defeat Malthael once and for all. A gash across his tan face still bled from when he received it at the beginning of the fight, during which Malthael had came close to severing the Demon Hunter's head. If it wasn't for his bola going off when it did, Balthier would had been the one falling in defeat. He stood there, his ice colored eyes fixated on a gaze at the once noble angel, as light footsteps carried throughout the chamber.<p>

"Where is the Black Soulstone," Tyrael asked him with a somber tone.

Balthier sighed in failure. He had failed his mission, failed his people, to obtain the soulstone before Malthael used it. His people was free from Malthael's tyranny, yes, but at what cost? Balthier didn't know if he wanted to cry or to scream. (He actually wanted to do both.) His people had endured so much. So much pain and agony had been caused because of this. All of those who died would never return home to their families ever again, and it pained Balthier that he couldn't had stopped it any sooner. He also knew that his people would never know peace as long as the demon and angels waged war on one another. This madness had to be stop once and for all before any more innocent lives were lost, or even ruined.

"Malthael used it to absorb Diablo's soul - he's free now." The Demon Hunter's voice was a bitter monotone. He turned on his heels to stride pass the angel. His eyes stayed fixated on the ground as he headed to exit the chambers.

"Where are you going?"

Balthier paused in his steps for a brief moment with his weight shifting on one leg. "I'm going to find Diablo and defeat him once and for all."

He did not wait for the angel's reply. Instead, he continued to march out the chamber with his head down. Kormac, Lyndon, and Eirena were all waiting for him outside in the halls of the great fortress. They all congratulated him on the victory, but the Demon Hunter kept walking.

He dared not to show his companions his tears of pure regret and rage.

That was five months ago.

Since then, Balthier had been on a fruitless quest to find any trace of Diablo and any way of stopping him. Every day that went by, he got more furious. He knew Diablo couldn't hide forever, and when he resurfaced, Balthier would be ready for him. The only lead Balthier had to go on was the rumors that the areas around Tristram had been having a higher demon activity than normal. He knew it was no coincidence. This was Diablo's work.

He was a little bit over five miles away south of Tristram now, in the forests. It was after midnight, but Balthier was beyond exhausted. For the past week, he had rested very little - maybe even not a total of eighteen hours. He was worn out from all the killing he had done the past few days. The rumors must have been true, because the moment Balthier entered this area, demons attacked him every fifteen minutes. It wasn't only him being attack either, but villages as well. Since his short time here, he had witness ten villages fall to the demons. He tried to save those he could, but he only saved two.

He propped himself up on a tree with his crossbows nearby in case something tried to ambushed him. He positioned himself on his back with his hands entwine over his stomach and tried to relax. He tried to concentrate on his pulse in order to clear his mind before he closed his eyes. No matter what he tried, Balthier couldn't take his mind off everything he was facing. He felt distraught.

Every time his eyes went to close, he saw little visions of either his father crawling towards him with a severed body, his mother mangled corpse, or his sister drowning. After five minutes of desperate attempts for find his much needed sleep, he gave up by placing his head in his hands. The things he would do just have a normal life once again.

Howls echoed through the forest, alerting Balthier with a shudder. He sprung up with his crossbows at his side and darted up the tree like a squirrel. From the highest branch, he could see smoke clouding the visage of a nearby village. Fires raged high into the clouds, and screams of terror carried with the wind. Demons were attacking!

He leaped from the top of the tree, landed on his feet with expertise, then bolted off towards the town. He couldn't help but to let vulgar curses slip through his lips as he moved through the woodland, dodging branches, logs, burrows, and even small boulders as he went. He was fleet, yes, but woodland environments always seemed to hinder his every movement. At one point, a branch of a birch whipped back at him to leave a small stinging welp on his cheek. He let out a small hiss, but pressed forward on to the town.

Out of the woods, he ran onto the overlook of the smoldering town, stopping briefly to check the pulse of the woman who laid at the edge of the cliff. Like always, he was too late. Too late to do anything. _If only I hadn't stop to rest, then maybe I could have intercepted them!_

"Damn," he whispered gruffly, his rough voice just as coarse as his parched lips.

Balthier jumped from the overlook, landing on his feet like a feline, and stalked through the ruins with his two handheld crossbows drawn. A strange wind blew against him as he walked causing his navy cloak to snap along with it. The moon shined down on him, only to reflect off of him by his silvery armor he wore over simple leather clothing. He kept his crossbows close to his side just in case he was attacked, and throwing knifes lined his belt, just in case. The breeze rustle with his black hair as he entered the town. The moment he passed through the gates, his hood went up, and he was on full alert

Torn bodies lined the road he walked, shredded in the brutal manner he had found to be common to demons. Ash choked the air while the beams of smoldering houses burned away like incense, slow and delicate. Everything from a broken mirror to a severed hand he took in with emotional attachment, etching a small picture in his mind that would be with him for all eternity. Tears burned his eyes while he scanned over the dead children and their mothers, but he refused to cry. They reminded him of his dead sister, Halissa, and how she died at the hands of demons. He missed her so very much, and he thought he would go insane if he didn't find at least one survivor!

"I'm sorry," he whispered, letting a tear betray him. "I'm so very sorry." _If only I had made it in time. ._ .

He pleaded in silent prayers for just one person to be alive, just one person to save. But he knew hope always betrayed him. Yet, a roaring fire, stilling blazing at full height, attracted him to the finest home in the town like a moth to a candle. Inside the blazing home, he saw faintly three giant, but dead, demons that laid surrounding an unconscious teenage girl. Balthier's heart jumped with excitement; she was breathing! Now all he had to do was save her and get her away from this wretched place.

Without even thinking, he jumped into the very heart of the fire to snatched her from her fiery death. Beams fell around him and flames licked at his face, but he wouldn't back down. He had to save her if he wanted to sleep somewhat peacefully tonight. He raced to her side to gingerly (almost as if she was some porcelain doll) pick the girl up and threw her gently on his back. Before the whole building could collapse, he was already away from the village, running toward the nearest river he knew of.

She needed water, food, and even shelter, and he would provide all of it for her. Then, when the time came, he would take her to westmarch in hopes of finding her a new home away from the demons. He threw her down on the side of the riverbank then proceeded to splash her face with the cold river water to revitalize her. She was choked with smoke. The girl let out a hacking cough followed by a low groan, but she didn't awake. Balthier knew she would probably be unconscious for sometime so he made her as comfortable as he possibly could.

He picked her petite form up from the riverside and brought her onto the grass. He laid her down, noting that the only thing she wore was a black sleeveless midriff shirt and thigh length shorts, and took off the navy cloak he wore to use as a blanket for her. She was a very pretty soul, even to someone like him who didn't care about such things. She had short black hair that bobbed around her round doll like face. Her eyes were large while her nose was slim and humble, and her skin was delicately suntanned. A grim line quirked through her thin pink lips as she slept. I never seen anyone quite like her, he thought, and he began to wonder excessively what kind of person she was.

Later on, he prepared a meal of dry meat, some berries he found, and some edible leaves for the both of them. After he ate and when she did not stir, he covered her meal up with his mask then took off all his armor. He prop himself against the nearest tree, adjusting himself to a comfortable position on his back, then closed his eyes to get some very needed sleep. However, flashes of people being slaughtered came and went through his scarred mind. He jolted up from his spot with chilled breath. It was just a nightmare - at least, that's what he told himself. Deep down, he knew it was more of a memory than a dream. Balthier took a deep breath to calm his racing heart before sluggishly walking to the river to splash his face with the refreshing water.

Behind him, he heard the girl starting to stir. She let out another hacking cough, this time seemingly coming to. Reluctantly, he got up to check on her, evening daring to ghost a thumb over her soft cheek.

"Hello," he whispered, hoping not to startle her. "You're safe now."

She blink at him a few times as if she was confused as to whether he was human or not. Then, when she realized he was a Demon Hunter, she sprung up in shock and simply stared at him. Her eyes; they chilled his spin somehow. They were not gray or blue or another other color that was common to humans; instead, they were as red as the blood he tried to salvage. She blinked at him again. Instead of blood red though, her eyes appeared to be a vivid green this time. Was he just imagining it? Perhaps it was just the lack of sleep; after all, he had been up for thirty-two hours.

"Who are you?" Her voice was low and boyish, yet cheerful.

"I'm Balthier, a Demon Hunter from the Dreadlands. And you are?"

"I'm Storm, Storm Yukki, from Dalesgrove." Then she added, very confused, "Where are we?"

Balthier swallowed the lump in his throat. He could lie and spare her from the truth, but then she would have hopes of going back to a town that lied in ruins. He had to tell her, even if it crushed that cheerful tone she had. He sat beside her with his legs sprawled out.

"Well, Storm," He began rather somber, "I'm sorry to say, but you're the only survivor. I'm afraid the rest of the village is in ruins- thanks to the demons. I was too late to save anyone else."

The whole time he spoke he looked down so he didn't have to make eye contact with her. He glanced at her out of curiosity only to see her staring at him like she wasn't comprehending. Natural shock, he thought. But as soon as that thought crossed his mind, she started to feel across her body almost as she was looking for something.

Balthier raised a brow. "What's wrong?"

She bolted up faster than he could ever thought possible and blurted out, "I have to go back! Now!"

He stood to protest, wanting to spare her mind from the horrific sight, but before words could leave his throat she was already leaping through the woods. He rushed to place his armor back on before he, too, leaped through the the woods after her.

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><p>"Did you know her," Balthier asked his new companion as they stood at the edge of the overlook, staring at the woman.<p>

"Yes," Stormly calmly answered him. "Everybody thought she was a witch, but she was just misunderstood, like me. We were best friends. When the demons attack, I saw her be attacked by one before they dragged her here. I felt so lost when I realized what happened. She was a sister to me."

She gulped and took a long pause._ It's only natura_l, he thought._ It must be so hard for her to tell how her best friend died so calmly. She's a strong one, like Leah was._

He felt his heart tug at the thought of the stout hearted woman. Even after he had gotten his revenge by slaughtering her mother who lied to them, he still couldn't help but to blame himself partly for her death. If only he had found out sooner, then maybe he could had saved her.

"The villager tried to fight," the girl continued, "but it was a useless struggle. The demons slaughtered everyone. Even my father couldn't hold them off."

"This has to be the work of Diablo." Balthier was vexed by such bloodshed. He had let all of these poor children he found die because he wanted to sleep! He would had let out a curse if it wasn't for the girl standing beside him, which begged the question: How old exactly was this kid? Thirteen? Fourteen, maybe? She barely stood at five feet three!

"How old are you?"

"I'm nineteen," she happily exclaimed.

"You're nineteen? You do not look it." He stood with his arms folded and an expression that looked as if she had told him the moon was polkadotted.

"I know I'm small for my age," she whimpered with her head down, seemingly self conscious about her small size. "I'm a petite. But I swear I'm nineteen, why would I lie?" She looked at him with those big green eyes of hers as if she was hurt by the implement and would begin to cry at any moment.

He stared at her with his gray eyes almost as big as hers before gesturing his hands in an up and down motion in front of him. "Now, now wait. I didn't, don't. . . I didn't say you were," he exclaimed. "Don't be putting words into my mouth!"

"It sounded like you were!" Now, she sounded angry with him which annoyed him.

"Watch your tone with me, girl!"

"I'm not a girl," she dryly interrupted, "I am Storm."

He batted his eyes at her before folding his arms. "Well, Storm," he said calmly, "if it wasn't for me, you could have died back there. A little appreciation could go a long way, especially now that I'm the only person to help you."

She said nothing else in return. Instead, she turned on her heels, and in one great jump, leaped off the cliff. Balthier, afraid that she might had hurt herself, raced to the edge of the cliff, only to see the very lively woman rushing off into the ruins at an astonishing speed, He chuckled to himself before diving off the cliff and steadily paced his way into the ruins. She was interesting to him, and would make someone a fun wife one day.

He didn't have to stride far to find his new bright eyed companion, because just up a path to the left of the main gate she stood, rummaging in what was left of her home. The flames had died out since he came here, and now all that was left was smoldering debris and ash. He took so much pity on her young soul, but there wasn't anything he could do to help quell the sorrow that was surely in her heart. He knew that from personal experience.

From the debris, he saw her pull out something that looked like a curved knife that was sheathed in a silver adorned sleeve with two aqua blue stones bedazzling the front of it. It look as though the fire never touched it.

"That's an ceremonial dagger, is it not," he asked her rather curiously.

She held it against her heart and he saw little tears glistening in her eyes. Tentatively, he walked up to her to wipe those beads of mourning from those bright green eyes he admittedly liked.

"It was a gift from my father," she wept. "I- he told me to keep it with me at all times and it would protect me. I guess it must have protected me from the demons."

Balthier looked at her in sympathy with his hand wrapped around her head. He didn't even move when she flung herself into his chest to unleash a tidal wave of tears; he just closed his arms around her.

"I'm sorry," he whispered to her. "He must had been engulfed in the flames. I'm so sorry; truly I am." He tried to sooth her, but he knew this type of pain never healed. At least, not with him.

Her sobs died down to sniffles before she broke away from his. "It-its okay. I just wish he was still here- it would have made things a lot easier."

He pressed his forehead against hers, even though he was almost a foot taller than her, and looked into her eyes. He held her arms as if they were made of thin ice.

"Let's go," he softly suggested. "We can bury the dead tomorrow, when we're well rested. Then, you can come with me; I'll be heading to Westmarch after I visit Tristram. There are good people there and I'm sure you could find a home there; I know you could."

He knew that she would never get over this tragic event, but he wanted to see her flourish into the bright girl she probably once was. He was tired of seeing these cheerful, happy-go-lucky ladies fall into dark pits of despair like Leah and Halissa. No, he wanted to see this one prosper away from a life filled with horrors and bloodshed. He would make sure what happened to Leah wouldn't happen to Storm.

"I'd love to come with you," she gratefully said. "Thank you."

She saw him flash her a small smile and naturally gave one back to him. He held a hand up to her eye one last time to wipe away the last remaining tears. Then, loudly like some savage beast, her stomach growled. They both let out a half-hearted chuckle. "I hope you have some food," She giggled. "I'm starving!"

Balthier shook his head but he couldn't erase the smile from his lips. "I did leave you some food back at camp - if the wildlife hasn't already eaten it." She gave him a light shove for his teasing and another burst of giggles erupted over them. He clapped a hand around her back, and together they made their way back to camp.

Back at the camp, Balthier watched Storm as she slept peacefully on the grass beside him. She took the tragedy better than most, but he knew, deep down, she felt like a broken husk. He notice that in the short time he had interacted with her that he felt. . . happy, happy for the first time in a decade and a half. She reminded him so much of Halissa, so much that he started to believe that she was Halissa reincarnated. But his logical side knew that couldn't be. She was much too old, and besides, he saw his sister's spirit in Pandemonium not too long ago.

Maybe life just wanted to throw him people he could love just so he could watch them fall before his very eyes. It seemed like that's how thing worked around him. Yet, as he laid back on the tree, he notice that his heart raced and his mind stayed on the girl. There was something about her that was different from all the others. And that something made him uncomfortable.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: And that conclude's Chapter One! Remember to review and help me correct any typos I may have made! <strong>


	2. Into the Cavern

Balthier never slept well, but to endure Storm's loud snoring was driving him closer to the brink of insanity. He laid against the tree, literally banging the back of his head on it. She had to sound like a dying walrus, didn't she?

"Your snoring is too maddening," he told her the next morning when she woke up. An embarrassed blush lit her face as she jumped up from her little nest in the grass.

"I'm sorry," she squeaked. "It's only when I'm exhausted, I promise!"

"It's fine," Balthier told her, but he was too annoyed to stay. Instead, he made his way to the ruins and began the teeves task of burying the dead.

For whatever reason, Storm didn't seem to had followed him. He hoped that she hadn't gotten lost and refused to believe that anything else could have happen besides that she may had stayed behind back at camp. It was three hours later before he saw the little black haired petite popping in from the overlook. She was cheerfully humming a fine tune when she past him, not evening acknowledging him, and went straight to digging with a cracked shovel.

"Did you get lost," Balthier coldly asked her.

"No, I was just eating," she retorted.

"Surely it doesn't take three hours to eat."

"I was also bathing," she defended.

"Then you must be training to become a fish," he humorously replied back, plopping a body in a freshly dug grave.

"And you must be a coconut; you're as hollow as one," she retorted again, commenting on the sour attitude he had this morning.

Balthier let out a long frustrating sigh. He didn't feel like putting up with anyone's attitude today, especially since he only got a hour of sleep. He was in a foul mood and didn't say anything else in return for fear of starting an argument with the apparent short fused woman. It was midday before they finished laying the dead to rest. They did not speak much to each other except for the occasional commands. After they finished, Balthier turned to walk away into the field with Storm close at his heels. Half way in to the middle of it, though, she collapsed to the ground.

"Can we take a break?" She whined.

"Five minutes."

"Ten," she rapidly demanded.

"Fine."

Balthier was still smoldering from earlier, but he was still concern for her. He sat down beside her in the green grass of the field then noticed something he hadn't noticed before. As she stared ahead with her legs tucked to her chest, little bloody scratches shined in the sun on her legs and bare feet. He knew they hadn't been there the night before, but the woods they raced through where full of sharp rocks and nasty branches that were like whips. She probably had gotten all of those cuts from running through them with nothing to protect her legs and feet. He felt sorry for making her walk barefoot but he just didn't have the clothing for her to properly dress. Maybe when they got to New Tristem he would buy her some decent clothes. He reached in the small pouch he wore at his side to pull out one of the many healing potions he carried and tossed it gently at her.

"Drink it," he told her when she stared at it. His voice was full of concern while all irritation faded from him. "It will restore your strength."

A small 'thank you' was the only thing he received in return. She popped the top of the bottle then shot the potion down in one swig. Balthier tried to hold back an laugh from her gagging reaction at the potion's poor taste, but only succeeded in muffling it. The results were almost instantaneous, however, with her cuts healing completely in just seconds. She flashed him a grateful smile. He gave his own more smaller one in return.

"As soon as we get to town, I'll buy you some new clothes," he said, getting up. He gave her a reassuring glance before outstretched his hand to her. She looked at him with apprehension before she gave a small smile back to him and took his hand.

For awhile they walked in a companionable silence that was more enjoyable than awkward. He was no longer irritated his new lady friend. In fact, he found her company to be quite enjoyable. In addition to a rather soothing tune she was humming as they walked, she also turned out to be the adventurous type - shown by how she wanted to explore every nook and cranny she found. At one point, he had to drag her away from a cavern she wanted to explore, only to be convinced that they should search it because demons could be lurking in it. _Only a day and she already knows how to pull my strings. Great._

"Fine, but only for a moment," he finally said after a long plead from her. "But I'm not responsible for your death."

His response to that last comment was a playful smack on the top of the head.

"And I'm not responsible for that knot on your head either," she flared with her arms crossed and nose in the air. He shot her an angry glare before stepping in the cavern.

Right away they were met with twists, turns, and hundreds of bloodthirsty demons. Balthier let out a sharp whistle as he absentmindedly walked toward three tunnels.

"This place is like a demon filled maze," he awed.

The demons rushed down the congested tunnels at rapid speeds, trampling those who tripped on the way.

"Stay back," the Demon Hunter called to Storm.

He pulled out his two crossbows and shot the first piercing shots into the masses that struck right through those it hit before exploding into a radiating explosion, blasting huge chucks of rubble down on the majority of the group. He let a vicious smirk wipe across his face as Storm gasped in awe. He fired more shots in the crowd , finishing just in time to dodge a demon's swiping attempt to maul his face. He landed next to Storm, who was huddling against a wall, then fired a deadly bolt that pierced the creature right through the chest. He fired two more explosive shots into the two groups that tried to flank them from the side, killing them on impact or sending rocky debris raining down on them. Another demon attempted to assault him, but he vaulted away from the assault in time to counterattack with a throwing knife coated in a paralyzing poison.

As he landed gently on his feet, he heard Storm let out a screech and turned towards her. He cried out her name almost instinctively while his body threw itself forward. A demon's throwing spear was heading straight for her and she had nowhere to run due to her being surrounded. Balthier lunged himself toward her, throwing an arm around her neck, then pulled her down to the ground before the spear could stab itself into the wall where her head had been only moments ago.

They went reeling across the ground, roughly enough to daze the Hunter, before they landed side by side away from most of the potential danger. Yet, Balthier barely had enough time to roll over his side to evade an glancing blow. Now he was furious.

He kicked his attacker in the face while he flung himself up. Another knife launch itself between the eyes of one of his enemies across the room, thrown by him as he flipped through the air. The moment his own feet hit the ground, he drew out his two crossbows and unleashed a volley of shots at every demon he saw until they were just a bloody pulp. _Vengeance._

He was heaving for breath after all the arrows in his weapons had been suspended into a corpse somewhere in the room. He let a wicked grin break from his lips as he admired his handy work: over two hundred demons dead and hardly a scratch on him. It seemed like he only got better and better at his job.

"We should be safe now," he panted, reaching a hand down to Storm who was still on the ground.

She gave him a smile of admiration as her hand moved towards his, only to stop midway in a pause. Balthier lips twisted into a frown as he turn his head toward one of the tunnels he had closed off. A loud rumble, the kind that shook the entire cavern, came behind it. The boulders that closed off the tunnel began to bulge before whatever force behind them shattered them to dust. A large demon broke through the barrier wearing crude spiked armor and equipped with a spiked mace the size of a man. It let out a vicious roar followed by a cackling laugh. Its hide looked tougher than the armor it wore.

"Storm," he called to her. "Stay back. Whatever you do, do not get in the way!"

He glanced back to see a nod from her before he reloaded his crossbows and slowly step forth towards the giant brute.

"Me smash puny human," it grunted while preparing to swing its mighty weapon.

Balthier let out deep breath to calm his racing heart. He had fought monsters like this in the past, but they had been very close calls. Then again, he had defeated the Lords of Hell once before, so what chance did this pushover have against him? One could never be too sure.

The brute swung his mace down where Balthier stood only seconds ago, jarring it in the hard ground. The Hunter had backflipped a few feet away from the beast then let loose a volley of arrows that picked at the demon's hide like needles. His attack was useless, and he knew it.

The demon, having freed his mace from the ground, roared at him in pure anger. It cleaved the great weapon towards Balthier, who barely was able to dodge it. However, the mace swung back around before he could catch himself after stumbling from the quick evasion. The impact knocked his breath out as spikes punctured through his armor and flesh. The force behind the weapon was so great that it threw him across the room until he crashed into the stony walls. His crossbows scatter across the floor along with everything else that the Demon Hunter had in his pouch - including his healing potions.

Balthier open his eyes, his vision blurred. Through the haze he saw the demon charging at him, ready to deal the final blow. He tried to move but his body felt paralyzed. There was a warm wetness coming from his abdominal that was accompanied by a sharp pain. He glanced down to see blood pouring out from the wounds he received; he would bleed out soon.

_This is it, then. It's finally over, _he thought. Distantly, he was aware of the weapon that was being swung directly at him, but he no longer cared. This was the end for him. He closed his eyes, awaiting for a blow that never came. Instead, a loud agonized roar erupted throughout the room. His eyes quickly snapped open to see the demon wailing in pain with a gash in his side.

To the left Storm stood with a spear, posed like some vicious monk. He saw the brute swing the mace at her and he tried to call out to her to move, but his voice was a dry whisper. She stood there, unflinching, until the weapon almost made contact with her before she ducked under the mighty swing. Balthier was in awe as she charged at the brute with unrelenting speed to drive the spear into his side then used it as a ledge to spring up into an acrobatic somersault, coming down to deal a blowing kick to the beast's head.

She landed gracefully on the ground, pausing briefly, before jump over the mace being swung at her. Balthier saw another swing come from behind her, and thought she wouldn't be able to dodge this attack. She stood with eyes whirlpooling between black and red, focusily staring at the club as it came closer and closer until it almost hit her. A loud clang echoed across the cavern room, accompanied by sparks flying rapidly through the air; the mace went soaring through the room as if it had been tossed. She had disarmed the beast in a simple move of her spear. Who was this woman?

A loud roar of anger pierced Balthier's ears. For a moment, he thought the brute would backhand her with its massive hand. However, he sensed the familiar aura of fear radiating of it like the warmth of a fire. He would have let out a cackling laugh if it weren't for his poor condition which crippled him severely. Then, almost instantaneous, another more vicious energy filled the room that chilled even his spine. For a moment he thought the energy was coming from another demon that was lurking around somewhere, but the evidence of his own eyes told him that was not the case.

A black fog, which seemed to sparkle red, enveloped around Storm while she looked up at the monster through her fringed bangs. Her eyes turned redder than the blood bleeding from him; her teeth seemed almost like fangs. It was almost as if she was demonic herself. The demon back down in pure fear even though she was just a small human woman.

The tip of the spear she held turned a blackened red while her free hand conjured some kind of black magic. She flashed toward the demon, throwing her corrupt spear that jabbed deeply into its armored shoulder, and landed a powerful blow that broke its jaw with only her empowered fist before giving an even more powerful kick right at its neck. She fell gracefully, catching hold of her spear that was still stabbed in the demon's shoulder to use as a pole. She flipped around the spear a few times then flew to the ground, taken the spear with her. The demon cried in pain as the weapon jerked from the mighty wound it made. Balthier, feeling quite useless, started to crawl toward his closest crossbow which was luckily only a few feet away while Storm landed safely on her feet on the other side of the room. With one foot in front of another and her hand that held her spear swept across her forehead, she wasted no time in chanting an unholy spell in some foreign language.

"Death to the unholy, Demonkin against Demonkin, Follow your blood back - back to the pits of hell," she chanted as a dark red energy danced around her. "Fall into eternal agony!"

While she chanted the demon tried desperately to run to the mace that had been flung from its grip. However, Balthier reached his crossbow in time and was able to shoot a crippling bolt to the demon's leg.

Storm finished her chant with her spear crashing into the ground to send out a blast of pure energy like none other. It tore the ground it trailed over, leaving a rupture in the ground, until it reach its sought after target, rippling into a brilliant red glow. Balthier had to shield his eyes from the bright light and for moments he thought he would also be swept into the blast. Screams roared over the loud sounds of arcane energy erupting, signaling that the demon was being ripped from the inside out.

A great explosion sent a rain of gore and guts flying over Balthier as the outer force threw him ruthlessly against the walls once again. All that remained of his would be killer was a smashed up pile of gut. The last traces of the magical essences died out, leaving the room they were in quiet. Balthier looked around with his blurry vision but saw no traces of any other life.

"Balthier," he heard Storm call. She raced by his side, potion in hand, with her eyes as green as grass and no signs of any demonic energy. "Balthier, stay with me, please."

She popped the top to the potion and delicately poured it into his mouth. Right away, he felt his strength coming back to him with the wounds he received closing up. He would be cold for sometime, as shown by him shivering, but the blood he had lost would replace itself over time - provided that he still had enough in him to live.

"Thank you," he whispered hoarsely. "I could have died just then if it wasn't for you." He sat up with a puzzling look on his face like she had come from some other world then proceeded to ask, "What are you?"

Storm blinked at him in shock for awhile before understanding dawned upon her in radiate blush that turned into a vile smirk. "I'm a Demonslayer," she said.

"A Demonslayer?" Balthier looked at her baffled. In all of his life, he had never heard of the term and thought she was just playing him for some kind of fool.

"Yes," she cheerfully nodded. "I'm a Demonslayer. We're a small group of warriors specialized in killing demons, just like you Demon Hunters do - only we use swords and spears along with magic while you guys use crossbows and bows with an intense desire to killed. In short, we're basically Demon Hunters with spears and a lack of hate."

"Do you love demons, then," he flared, hating that little statement she made. He had a reason to hunt - to avenged his family.

She let out a long drawn sigh, obviously annoyed. "No, we're just not as obsessed with killing them as you are. I guess in other words, we let them come to us."

"And how does that work exactly," he asked with his brows knitted in confusion.

She looked at him wearily, almost as if he'd turned into some savage beast, and simply shook her head. She took a moment to position herself with her legs tucked to her chest like she always sat, staring straight at the ground. "We use demonic energies to attract them to use then we balances out those forces with meditation, kinda like how Hunters uses their hatred and then balance it out with discipline." Silence fell between the two momentarily before Storm glanced up and gave him a bashful smile. "We should get out here. I'm sorry I asked to come; I nearly got you killed."

The sad remorseful tone she used picked at Balthier's armored heart. She was a beautiful young lady with the attitude of a child, and her smiles made Balthier feel. . . happy, somehow. But deep inside he heard his logical side tell him that there was more to this woman than an innocent childish facade she wore. He knew now that under there was a powerful force to be reckoned with, and he was set out to find what lied under that mask.

He reached to grab her hand in a reassuring manner, ghosting his thumb lightly over it. "It's fine," he told her. "It was my fault - I shouldn't had been so reckless."

Getting up from his spot, he pulled her up to him and gently patted her back before walking out of the cavern with her under his arm. For the rest of the day it was quiet between the two as they walked the path to New Tristram. Balthier, deep into thought, was aware of something that boggled his mind. Before the trip into the cavern, Storm's head was to his chest. Now, all of a suddenly, her head could fit comfortably under his chin. He knew he wasn't imagining it, and he knew it was impossible for someone to grow that fast. They trailed through another batch of woods with Storm singing a song about a journey of three horsemen. If it was true that her - and supposedly her father - were Demonslayers, then would that have meant that the village that got destroyed wasn't entirely defenseless? Had her and her father known more about the demon attack then she lead him on to believe?

New Tristram could be seen in the distance with lanterns glowing in an eerie light as they came from the woods and headed down a familiar road he walked once before. Memories of his first trip here blazed in the back of his mind, trying to drown him in regret. It seemed almost yesterday since he had helped Captain Rumford in guarding the city's gates and helped Leah save her uncle. All three of them were gone now. His heart weighed heavily at the accounts of their deaths, each one avoidable if only he had known in time.

A mournful sigh left his lips as the two entered through the gates. He saw flashbacks of him racing to assist the guards here with the undead before they could open the gates. A younger version of himself trended these same streets to the inn he was now walking towards to meet Leah for the first time. He glanced back to the spot between the inn and what use to be Deckard Cain's house - where they had once stood, talking endlessly about the skeleton king, and almost fainted. He had failed them once, but that is why he was here. For Tristram, once again, was under the siege of the demon he sworn to kill. And this time. he would not fail as horrible as he did in the past.

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><p><strong>Well, there it is - chapter two of my probably waaay senseless story! If you find any errors please let me know so I can fix them! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. :) More coming soon!<strong>


	3. A Unplanned Rescue

"Too big."

"This?"

"Not unless you want to look like a hooker."

Balthier was sitting on a nearby bench with his arms crossed and eyes closed when a red slipper came flying by his face. As promised, he took Storm to a merchant for new clothes, but it seemed like all the dresses and clothing there were either too big for her or made her look like some drunken slut. He was starting to give up on ever finding her something to wear. _Three hours and you would think she would have at least found something that was half way decent,_ he sighed inwardly to himself.

"Why can't you just buy me some armor? I'm a warrior, not a prep," Storm yelled at him.

"Because I do not want you getting hurt. It's much too dangerous for you to be fighting," he stated calmly, rising up. He reached into his back pouch to pull out a little coin purse he carried then counted out enough money for her to spend. "Here's three thousand gold," he said, handing her the coins. "Try not to spend it all. And please, for the sake of my sanity, hurry up. I'll be waiting at the tavern in exactly one hour - I expect to see you there. Do you hear me?"

Her eyes darted all over him before she lowered her head to the ground. "Yes," she whimpered as if she just been scolded. "But could you please stop treating me like a child? I appreciate everything you're doing for me, but I'm a grown woman that can handle herself."

"I'm just trying to protect you is all," he responded to her. "If you have seen what I've seen, you would understand. Now please, don't be too long." He spun around his heels then jaunted off.

Storm blinked blankly at the spot Balthier just stood. She notice that he had sounded rather hurt that she didn't want him treating her with so much chivalry. And what did he mean by if she'd seen what he'd seen? She had seen countless villages burnt to the ground and her own followers slain before her eyes! He was treating her like a child that had no experience when she was a master demon- oh what was the use? He'd treat her the way he thought she needed to be treated until she proved otherwise. Well then, she would just have to show him what kind of warrior she was. She looked at the gold pieces he'd gave her and smirked.

"Is there anything else you'd like to try on, Ma'am," the merchant inquired. She turned toward the man with raised brows. Yeah, there was one thing she needed more than her own heart. And Balthier was foolish enough to give her the money for it.

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><p>Balthier strode the streets outside New Tristram's back gates, heading toward the cemetery he once searched. He came here on a business errand, not to lollygag around and spend three hours looking for clothes! He stood midway in his furious stride to let out a wry sigh. Why did he insist on bringing her here? Was it because she seemed a lot like Halissa at times? He couldn't be too sure on why he felt like he was obligated in protecting her, but there was something about Storm that felt like it was also a part of him. But what was it? Usually he would have no problem in letting a woman fight beside him, but with her he felt like he had to keep her safe, even when she had told him herself that she was a Demonslayer that had been trained to fight the very forces of Hell. He hadn't been this way with Leah or Eirana or any of the female Demon Huntresses, so why her all of a sudden?<p>

He continued to walk the dark road in prolong thoughts, absent from all the things lurking in the darkness. It wasn't because she was weak, or that she was younger and more innocent. He'd seen her fight - saved his life, in fact. So she would be a good ally to have at his side. She had a stout heart and was very hardheaded, yet she seemed to be cheerful at times too. Then it hit him like a rain of rocks and knives showering down around him, halting him in his steps and making him choke back a painful gasp. The reason he didn't want her to fight, or to be involved in anything to do with demons, was because if she fought that would mean she would have a chance to die - just like Leah and Hallissa had.

What was worst was the fact that Storm was just like the two. He didn't want to see another person he love die. . . And Storm was one of those people he couldn't help but to feel for. That's why he couldn't let her fight. But what could he do? He couldn't just lock her up in a cage somewhere underground. The woman probably lived to fight demons just as he did. He had to let her be who she was and keep as far from these feelings as he could.

The brushes nearby rustled with small steps lingering throughout the noise. Balthier went on high alert with his crossbows drawn, awaiting for some vile creature to leap out for the kill. A few snaps of twigs could be heard as the rustling died down into silence but Balthier did not move a muscle. He was ready to fire at a moment's notice. His eyes squinted in a focused gaze to look for any trace of demonic lingerings, but he found none. Then, with the simple snap of a branch beneath its weight, the thing that lingered in the brush blurred out at full speed towards him. but he did not shoot. Instead, his eyes snapped wide in shock with his crossbows hurling straight down from his hands as he fell to his knees with his arms spread out. _Panic._

"Pweas, welp me," the little blonde boy cried, throwing himself into Balthier's arm. "Dey have me sissies in de fave over - over dere!" He point back behind the bushes. His blue eyes glistened with tears and he had bruises and scrapes all over him. Balthier lightly brush his hand over the gash at the kid's forehead feeling sick to his core.

"How old are you," Balthier ask the child, keeping his tone as light as possible.

"I'm thour," he said, holding up three figures. "Me Nicky!"

"Okay Nicky. Show me where your sisters are and I'll do my best to save them, but I need you to stay close to me." The little boy nodded before taking Balthier's finger and guiding him to a tunnel that seemed to have been dug by demons.

Fury coursed through Balthier's blood now. It was just like demons to harm an innocent child, and now they would pay for it with their blood on the ground! His breath grew rapid as he worked himself up about the child cowering behind him in fear as they stepped into the tunnel. Down further they went with no sight of anything less than a worm until in the distance Balthier could make out a pack of demons surrounding a small girl.

"Get away from her," Balthier screamed as bolts left his crossbows faster than he could register them. Arrows hit a small imp like creature, sending it flying into the air while some tall brute with crude armor covering everything but his chest was thrown back from an explosion of bolas. The others that remained quickly closed in Balthier in attempt to overwhelm him. He did not move, not until they were right up on him. He let a grin part his lips to flash a set of yellowed teeth; his fringed smokey black bangs cover his left eye while his other eye gleamed in an eerie yellow shine. He reached into his pouch the moment before he vaulted away from his attackers and dropped a highly deadly grenade.

He grabbed the child at his side by the waist as the explosive he dropped beeped faster and faster. He went leaping through the swarm of demons just as the final tick set the grenade off in a show of red, orange and yellow, followed by a rain of gore. Balthier paid no mind to what was behind him however. Instead, he focused all his attention on the little unconscious girl just in front of him. A wave of worry rushed over him as he slid himself up to the girl and scooped her in his arm. Did she receive any fatal injuries? Did the demons scar her mind? Would she live? All the worries that raced through his mind proved to be fruitless though. He sighed with great relief.

Other than a few minor scratches and a bump to the head, the girl would be fine. She coughed a little as her little eyelashes fluttered open to stare Balthier in the face with chocolate covered doe eyes. He smiled at her then brushed a thumb over her cheek. Her and her brother appeared to be twins. Now he just needed to find the other supposed sister,

"You're fine now. I have your brother, and we will soon have your sister. Now tell me - did you see where they took her?"

She nodded at him, not making a sound before point father into the tunnel. "They had bad man with them," she murmured in fear.

"It'll be okay. I'm here, and I won't let anything happen to you," he told her after giving her a light pat on the head. He pulled her up on her feet then ushered her along side him to continued farther in.

* * *

><p>Storm drunk her rum down in a fierceness that none in town had ever saw coming from a woman before slamming the empty mug down on the table. She was simmering in anger at her apparent friend who forgot to be here on time.<p>

"_I expect you to be there on time,_" she mocked, throwing her feet up on the table. "Pssh, what a joke!" She leaned back in her sit for a quick nap that was interrupted by one of the many drunken man that stayed at the tavern at night.

"That's a lovely set of armor you have on, miss," he said, wobbling to the chair across from her. "Can I ask you what's the drop rate on 'em?"

Despite what Balthier had told her, Storm had made a very good 'deal' with the merchant on the purchase of a suit of leather and silver armor that fitted her lovely to the core. A silvery chestguard covered her humble bosom down to her midriff with a black leather vest hidden beneath it to cover the rest of her torso and arms. Round leather shoulder pads that were silverlined covered her shoulders delicately while leather gloves contour to her hands. On her legs simple leather pants and legguards protected them from most harm and leather boots finished it out. It was basic and simple yet enough to keep her from minor dangers. Besides, demons tended to freeze in fear at the sight of her very eyes.

Storm sat there examining the man in total silence for awhile. He was probably in his early thirties, but he did seem like an handsome soul. He had a full grown mustache that was as brownish black as the short slicked back hair on his head. His chocolate eyes gleamed in a drunken trance which told Storm that he probably had two too many. He wore a sand colored suede trenchcoat over a plain white tunic and dark brown pants with leather gloves covering his hands and shoulder pads decorating his broad shoulders. The only jewelry he wore was a simple gold pendant, but she was no fool. She knew who he really was - a scoundrel looking for an easy lay.

"Oh, I don't know," she finally responded in a seductive mischievous way. "It depends on the man."

"What if a certain man could promise you to give you the night of your life?"

Storm leaned back into her chair and dared to let a small chuckle leave her lips. "You flatter yourself. I barely know who you are." She cocked her head to the side and licked her top lip slowly to tease him.

"Nothing that can't be solved," he said, leaning back with a noticeable bulge in his pants. "My name is Lyndon. And you are?"

"Storm, but don't let such a name fool you. I can be a goddess at times."

Lyndon let out a drunken chuckle and dared to reached across the table to grab Storm's hand and bring it to his lips. "Well Storm," he purred. "It's a pleasure to meet you. But I must say - what brings you to a dump like this?"

She broke her hand away from his grasp and folded her arms across her chest, looking somewhat distressed. "I was waiting for a friend of mine to show, but it seems as if he got lost or maybe even got killed somewhere." She shifted in her sit to stare him in the eyes in a flirting manner.

He leaned back in his chair and let out a heartened chuckle. "What a consequence! I am too!" He sat back up, staring her at her with lust filled eyes. "So what do you say that we wait on our companions. . . together?"

Storm cocked her head to the side again and let a flirtatious laugh out. "Oh," she exclaimed. "I would love to!"

Lyndon cheered with enthusiasm then called out to the bartender. "Get me a nice pint of bourbon for me and a thing of mead for my lady friend." He glanced over to Storm with a lustful glisten in his eye. "We're in for a heck of a good time, my friend."

The waitress brought them their drinks with haste and gentle placed their mugs on the table before scurrying off to another table. The two kept their eyes on each other in a mute challenge as they pick their drinks up and sipped diligently on them. "My, dear girl, you are so lovely yet dangerous looking," he said eyeing her over until his gazed set on her breasts. "I best to hurry before my friend shows up and wrings my neck over you."

He gulped the remains of his drink before abruptly standing up and making his way to her. He grabbed her by the arm then proceeded to pull her to him until their faces were only an inch away and their breaths mingled together, hot and hefty. His hands traveled from her upper back down to her waisted, paused, then continued down to her butt where he grabbed it. Storm gasp in shock, letting him have the opportunity to clash his mouth against hers and slip his tongue between her teeth. She let out a low moan as her hands traveled up to his hair where she grabbed and pulled as the kiss grew into a battle of dominance. Fire coursed through her veins while a tingling sensation came from her thighs. Their waists grinded against one anothers and she could feel his bulging crotch against her more sensitive area.

Storm finally broke the kiss to look into his eyes. "Room for two," she whisper seductively.

"Not unless you won't a room for three," he groaned.

"Two is more personal."

"But three is more fun," he countered.

Storm licked her lips savagely. This was going to be a great time.

* * *

><p>Balthier trended lightly in the depths of the demon defiled tunnel with two small children trailing right behind him full of fear and turmoil. It wasn't like him to take the more stealth approach in dealing with his enemies but with two children to look after, he couldn't risk being reckless, not even a little. He used his sharpest of arrows to pierce the heads of those who blocked his path and left the others be, at least for now. To him a dead demon was the only good demon no matter the cost, but he needed to save the children's sister, wherever she may be.<p>

A large demon blocked the entrance to a side tunnel that had a purple glow from within it somewhere, accompanied by faint echoes of some kind of chanting. _Cultist, how wonderful! _Balthier pulled out a crossbow from his holster to aim straight at the demon's head. A small click of the trigger sent the bolt blasting its head clean off its neck. Balthier quickly grabbed both the children and ran into the side tunnel and hid behind a group of barrels and a small ritual altar.

"Stay here," he told the children sternly. He crept out from his hiding spot to the corner of a dirt wall. He peered out from around the corner to see six cultist surrounding a young woman in some unholy ritual. She must have been the other sister. She certainly was a lot older than the other two though. Probably even as old as Balthier. But as of now, she was in severe danger. The cultists had her stripped naked and her hands tied behind her. He had to act fast before they turned her into some vile creature!

There was no plan involved as he jumped from his hiding place into plain sight then shot a few cultists in the head. The rest halted their casting to face their sudden attacker. A few were foolish enough to charge right at him, while the other more smarter ones began to summon their minions to them. He did not concern himself with those who foolishly charged at him with puny daggers. It would be easy to pull out one of the many knives he carried and slit their throats while he charged past them. Instead he focused a majority of his attention on the summoners.

He didn't have many bolt left to his disposal so every shot had to matter. Spiral orange and purple ribbons of pure demonic magic danced around crimson ones that sprouted into the forms of large Hellhounds mestifesting from the very pits of Hell. Balthier took a quick observation over the room, his eyes trailed rapidly around until they landed on the chandelier hovering directly of the cultists and their minions. One precise shot would send it crashing down down on them - and the woman he was trying to save. His timing had to be absolutely perfect if he wants her to survive. He rushed toward the three that dared to charge him with nothing but daggers with his hand on his own dagger that was sheathed safely in his belt. He passed by the first one, knocking him off guard with his wrist when an awkward attack sought to stab him. Balthier pulled out his own dagger then, and slashed the cultist's throat. The other two charged at him, only to be welcomed by a violent punch to the face before a dagger nearly sliced their head off.

He sheathed his dagger back before he pulled one of his crossbows out and shot the rope holding the chandelier with almost impossible accuracy without even aiming. The cultist just stood there in complete shock as the chandelier came crashing down on them. Right before it hit the ground though, Balthier slid under it to grab the woman then vaulted away. Sounds of glass breaking, screaming, and flesh being impaled by sharp metal spikes that adorn the fancy light piece could be heard from behind him as he kneeled to inspect her. She was unconscious but other than that, perfectly fine,

A wailing scream pierced his ears. A chill of dread and even fear chilled his spine as he spun around to see a monstrosity about to bear its claw right down on the little children that had been hiding by the barrels. A scream left his throat as he sprinted toward the demon as his claws began to swipe down at them. Like some kind of fatherly instinct, he threw him body between the two, only to feel the claws sink into his shoulder painfully deep. A gasp of pure pain slip through his lips while the beast withdrew his paw back. Their eyes met, both filled to the brim with hate and viciousness. Another swept of the creatures paw sent Balthier reeling across the floor, leaving the children to fight for themselves. Balthier lifted his crossbow, holding on desperately to reality, and aimed carefully at the creature who preoccupied itself at stir fear into the hearts of the children. A slight click sent the bolt hurling and then he knew nothing.

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><p><strong>I just wanna say thanks for the support on the story. ^_^ I'm glad to see people enjoying it. As always, please help me fix any errors I may have overlooked and review. :) I'll try to publish every week or two depending on how much work I have and how long the chapter will be! <strong>


	4. Newfounded Saviors

Lyndon laid on top of Storm, both of them now wearing nothing but their pants. Their bodies pressed together in pure ecstasy as they kissed each other through hastened breaths. Lyndon grazed the crook of Storm's neck causing her to arch back with moans of bliss rolling fluently on her tongue. His hands roamed down the back of her head, across her back, and down her upper arms until they finally took rest cupping both her breasts. A small sound, along the lines of a laugh, slip through her lips while her fingers brushed through his hair.

"You're such a tease," she moaned. "I never thought you would be so savory with me."

"Hey, I just wanna tease you first, sweetie."

She planted a small kiss on his lips with her green eyes dancing from the reflection of a nearby candle. "Don't let it slow down the trip to Heaven's gates, baby."

A soft laugh escaped through his lips, His voice was a low rumble as he whispered in her ear, "Don't worry. I won't."

He raised up to flash her a wicked smile, his pearly white teeth flashing in the candlelight, before he moved down to kiss her perked up nipple. Storm let out a moan when she felt his tongue run over the little pink nod. Her arms outstretched, one of them rested on the nightstand. Her hand reached for a silver trinket box that rested on the side of it and she delicately brought it to the edge of the bed. Lyndon hovered over to the other nipple, unaware of the little silver box that was coming down to crash against his head. A loud clang echoed through the room while Lyndon dropped on top of Storm, unconscious. Storm raised up to lay him comfortably on the bed before covering him up with the sheets and turning to browse through his satchel until she found his coin purse.

A smirk played on her lips as she dressed herself. She turned with his coin purse in hand toward the bed to see his chest rising steadily. Sure, he would have a bad headache and a missing purse when he woke up, but other than that he would be completely fine. She strode over to the bedside to take a better look at the man she led on. He was cute by her standards and would make a great partner, but he wasn't the man she had set out to get. Balthier was a honorable man that would be repulsed by any promiscuous woman so she had to be careful about what she did from now on. It was the only way to ensure she could get him wrapped around her fingers to obey her every command - not like he could refuse her or anything like that, though. He was trapped the moment her plan was set into place. Now all she had to do was sit back, watch, and toy with her new toy until he couldn't take anymore.

Her eyes turned a bright red as she licked her lips. She trailed her hand through the man's hair once again before leaning down and whispering, "And so the thief gets robbed. The irony.." She turned, heading for the door, and left the room.

Storm walked slowly down the hall of the inn. Her mind was running through a mixture of different subjects that made her feel somewhat stressed. First, her father gave her what was basically a suicide mission. Then, she was told that she had a choice about how her destiny unfolded. What the hell was that suppose to mean? And now she was trying to seduce a guy with the sexuality of a stick! What was next? Killing unicorns and care bears while eating cupcakes?

A group of young women running down the hallway passed her into the the lobby with great haste and an air of worry surrounding them. She peered down the hall into the lobby that held a growing congregation surrounding someone. Her heart skipped a beat as her mind raced to Balthier. He wasn't the type to be late to places unless something really big or really bad happen. She knew it had to be the latter or else she would have sensed it or had at least been informed by her father's servant. Her heart felt constricted. Her lips all of sudden went dry. Then terror settled in at all the probabilities that could have happened. She lunged herself forward into a sprint down the hallway, fast as her suddenly heavy legs could take her. The fool couldn't die on her so soon!

In the lobby she wiggled through the drunks, one even daring to grope her bottom which resulted in a smack upside their head from her. She pushed both men and women out of the way while her eyes scanned the mostly blocked view of a dark haired man on his knees with blood dripping from his shoulder. In his arms she could see what appeared to be a very pale woman that resembled an unconscious porcelain doll. There was a brief moment as she moved through the crowd when the man raised his head and - almost instinctively - locked his eyes instantly with hers as if she was the only person in the room. Those cold light blue eyes beneath a curtain of course black hair had murder written all over them. She didn't even have to see the way his jaw was set or how tightly he was clenching his teeth to tell that he was pissed off enough to kill.

"Balthier," She blurted out as she bursted through the last few bodies of the crowd. Storm bent down in front of him with her hand gently laying itself on his wounded shoulder only to be denied by a simple flinch. She look at him both in shock and utter curiosity.

"Get the kids a room," he gritted out, motioning behind him. She glanced over to the other side of the room where two little blonde twins stood. They were covered in bruises and scrapes, and for a moment they appeared more lifeless than the undead.

"Alright," she agreed, then turned to the crowd to call for aid. "Get this man some help before he dies, you idiots!"

The three young women that passed her in the hallway came forth along with a bulky man that could had double for a warrior if it wasn't for his priest regiments. Balthier wobbled up to his feet with a few grunts of pain escaping his lips. The women surrounded him, one even daring to ghost a hand at his wound, while the priest approached him with open arms. Balthier shot a glare at the man, obviously distrusting him right away, but he reluctantly gave the woman up to him, laying her carefully in the priest's arms. She watched as the bulky guy turned towards the hall to carry the woman off somewhere with the three women ushering Balthier closely behind him. The crowd split into, allowing room for the wounded to walk by without any physical contact to be made. Silence grew throughout the room while everyone watch the retreating figures walk down the hall, and eventually up the staircase that led to the second floor. Then the crowd erupted back into their cheerful tone as if nothing ever happened.

"Innkeeper," Storm yelled. "I need a room for these two kids over here, pronto!"

She turned her attention to the soulless husks that still prop themselves against the wall, staring dead at the ground. What in the blazes did Balthier do to scare the life out of these two? If he filled their heads full of that Demon Hunter mumbo jumbo crap that she heard countless other Hunters speak, so help her gods, she was going to strangle him herself! Then again, she was shock that she even felt like that towards these two. She was suppose to be composed and rational, indifferent to suffering, not emotional. Yet, she found herself feeling a motherly care in her heart as she crouched down before the two with a smile.

"Come," she pleaded, reach out to touch the little girl's cheek. "I'll get you both cleaned up and fed a nice hot meal. Now tell me, what's your names?"

They both stood there staring at her with fear in their voidless eyes. The little boy reached over to grab his sister's hand to hold tightly. Storm frowned at the hopelessness in their faces, but she knew she couldn't falter. She forced herself to smile brightly once again with her arms stretched forward to welcome them into her arms.

"Come on," she happily coaxed. "I can't call you thing one and thing two, now can I? My name is Storm, and I'll promise I'll be your best friend." That was the biggest lie of the century.

"Me Nicky," the little boy mumbled hoarsely. He raised the hand that held tightly to his sister. "Dis Carly."

"Alright, Nicky and Carly. Now come with me and we'll have a fun time together."

The twins wearily step into her arms that enclosed in a loving embrace. She stood with her hands on both their shoulders and reared them into the room the innkeeper had prepared for them. Inside, she found that he had generously supply her with a wash tub of water and plenty of towels to clean the children, along with ointment and bandages to doctor their wounds with. She sat Nicky down on the closest bed by the door then escorted Carly to the wash tub. She dipped a cloth in the soapy lukewarm water while Carly took a seat in the chair next to her. With a wring of the cloth and a violent shake, Storm pulled the cloth from the water and began to clean the girl's dirty face. She carefully examine every detail as the cloth brushed away the grime that colored Carly's rather pale complexion. When her face was spic and span, Storm threw the towel back down in the water, abandoning it to soak for awhile. She reached for the ointment, taking a dap with her finger, and rubbed it on any cut that Carly had on her face.

She repeated the same steps on the girl's arms and legs, until every speck of dirt was cleared away and all the cuts were slathered with medicine. Storm pulled on the lace trimmed dress the girl wore and scowled. Both the dress and what Nicky wore were both unfit to wear, and they would have to be brought something new. It was a good thing she robbed that scoundrel from earlier.

"Alright, sweetie," she tenderly spoke. "Go wait on the bed while I clean you brother, and then we'll do a little shopping." The girl's eyes lit up at the word shopping.

"Really? Can I have a teddy bear?"

Storm shook her head with a big smile. "We'll see."

"Yay! I love you," the girl declared.

She jumped from her seat to hug her newfound savior before skipping over to the bed. Storm motion for Nicky to come sit in the chair next. He was a lot easier to clean since his pants and long sleeve shirt kept most of the dirt off his skin. With the exception of his face and hands, he barely had a nic on him. She rub him down with a clean cloth then rub a dab of medicine over the few cuts he had. She turned to wipe the greasy substance off her hands, noting that Nicky still sat there staring at the floor.

"What's wrong," she asked him.

"Is our sissy gunna be okay?"

Storm mind flashed back to the pale woman Balthier had held in his arms. While the woman didn't appear to be wounded in anyway, Storm knew that some of the most fatal wounds were those that couldn't be seen. She didn't want to give the child false hope nor did she want to the hope he had die. She bent down to his eye level with her hand on his shoulder.

"I don't know," she mouthed honestly. "We'll just have to wait and see, but until then we'll make the best of it. Now, let's go find you guys something to wear. There's a merchant across the street."

Nicky gave her a somewhat strained nod before he leaped out of his chair. Carly ran to hug her brother, then they both ran to open the door. Down the hall, Storm heard their little steps as she stood peering into the room's mirror. Was this where she truly needed to be? The doubt in heart kept telling her no. However, her father's will was her duty, and she sworn herself to abide by it. Even if it left her empty in the end. She shrugged back the thought. Her thoughts never dwelled in such depression before, nor would she let them now. Especially since she was beginning to see her plans set into actions. She smiled at herself as she step through the door. In the lobby, the two children waited happily for her to take them out into the streets.

"Come on," Storm gestured, opening the door. "We need to hurry before he closes up for the night."

Both of them nodded their heads before running across the street to the merchant's wagon. Their wide eyes browsed through all the choices they had to choose from. Storm strided over to them with her hands coming up around their little backs. In the very back, her eyes caught a little pink dress that she automatically knew Carly would just adore.

"Look," she said, pointing toward it. "That dress looks to be your size."

She watched as Carly's eyes lit up at the sight of the bright pink dress that glittered with sequins. The merchant brought the dress in question over to them for a closer inspection. Up close, the dress even looked more beautiful with its puffed up shoulders and little jewels that changed from green to blue depending on the lighting. She picked the dress up to hold it against Carly. It would be a perfect fit!

Nicky, Storm learned, was the simplest of the two. Where as his sister choose the most dazzling thing there was, Nicky went for simple and comfortable. For him, a simple pair of plain taupe overalls and a blue shirt was enough to suffice his basic needs. With their new clothing awaiting to be worn, Storm began to stroll off toward the inn once more when a shriek from Carly rung in her ears.

"What is it," Storm growled. She followed the girl's eyes to a purple yarn dog with button eyes and a strip of red velvet for a tongue. "Oh, alright," she sighed, remembering the promise to by the kid a doll. "If you really want it."

The kind merchant came from the counter with the dog in hand. Kneeling in front of Carly, he handed to her like one would a real one before patting her on the head. "That there is a very special puppy. If you promise to take good care of it and never leave it, then I'll let you have - no charge."

"Really!?" Carly eyes were brighter than the sun in Caldeum as she squeezed her toy with all her strength. "I promise I take good care of him," she said with her hand across her heart. The merchant nodded in approval. With a hefty pat on her head, he stood to retreat back to the counter.

"Now are we ready to head back to the room," Storm asked with her voice stressed with annoyance.

"No," the two yell. "We wanna play a game."

Storm cocked her head to the side. The last time she remember playing was when she just a little toddler. She forgot why kids even play, and she was curious to find out why it held a kid's attention more than their chores. "What kinda game?"

* * *

><p>Balthier laid propped up in his bed, just staring at the wall. He grinded his teeth in anxiety as he patiently waited for someone to show up. The wound on his shoulder wasn't as bad as he thought, but it still caused him a lot of unneeded pain. Still, the pain he endured now was worth saving the lives of the two children he found along with that woman. His eyes darted from the wall down to his hands that rested lightly on his lap while he tried to make sense of why cultist where here of all place and why they wanted that woman. It just didn't make sense, but he reminded himself that these were cultists he was dealing with. Most of the things they did were senseless. Then his mind trailed to that priest who helped him down stairs. He didn't like the look of the guy, distrusting him right away. There was something that just didn't seem right, like the eyes were too demon like. Something big was going on here, and he needed to figure it out. He let out a small sigh as he slid down into the bed. <em>Where is everyone? <em>

No sooner than the question faded from his thoughts, the door slowly creaked open with someone shuffling quietly in before it shut close with a small _click_. Balthier didn't even turn to see who it was. He didn't need to. He knew people just by their footsteps alone, and she happened to have very distinct ones.

"You're late," he coldly stated, turning to address Storm. She stood leaning on a counter with her eyes averted to the floor and arms crossed.

"The kids wouldn't go to sleep until I played tag with them," She defended. Her voice was a monotone. "Then they wanted to eat a whole pot of stew so I had to wait on them." She glanced up briefly at him, only to see him stare straight ahead at the wall. "What happened out there?"

"Cultists," he hissed. "They wanted that woman for some evil end, and I want to know why." He turn his head toward his satchel that was propped up on the counter beside Storm. He motion for her to bring him it which she did. It took a bit of rummaging through it, but after a moment he pulled out an amulet with great power. "Look at this," he commanded, handing her the strange find.

She held the necklace with trembling hands as she studied its design. In the center there was a onyx in a gold setting surrounded by little rubies between the silver wings that spanned outwards. She rubbed her thumb across it, noting the little bloodstains on the wings. Her chest constricted as she felt the immense power of it radiating through her. "Where did you find it?"

"A cultist had it in their hands when I killed them. I thought it may had belong to the lady, but now I believe its a clue to the increase of demon activity in these parts."

"So it's suppose to be demonic or something? Doesn't feel like it." Storm ghosted her thumb across it one last time before handing it back to Balthier. "Even if something like that is, I don't believe its going to be much help to us without some kind of explanation."

Balthier delicately placed the amulet back in the bag with a concern look on his face. "I bet that woman could give us some answers when she wakes up." He turn to look up at her. "By the way, did you check up on her like I asked you to?"

"I did," she replied while retreating back to the counter with his satchel. "She was sleeping fine when I saw her, but that priest wouldn't let me stay long." She looked at Balthier with a furrow crossing her brow as she recalled the way he looked at the man. "You don't trust him, do you?"

"I don't know," he replied in uncertainty. "We'll just have to keep a close eye on him until we figure it out."

He threw back the blankets that covered him then swung his legs around to the side of the bed. Storm notice that all of his armor was off, leaving him in just his pants he wore and a bandage wrapped around his shoulder. She couldn't help but to smile at his lean sinewy build that looked more slimmer than when he was dressed. It was clear that he more often forgot to eat than not to. He looked at her with his face slightly flushed - almost unnoticeable due to his dark tan - before abruptly turning his head away to peer at the floor. It didn't take a brilliant mind to tell that she made him uncomfortable.

"Just what are you doing," she asked when an awkward silence came between them.

"I've dealt with much worse pain than this," he murmured more to himself than to her. He pointed to a deep painful looking scar on his right side before he stood up with a grunt of pain. "Besides, I have to meet someone."

As he put his clothing back on, Storm remained silent. Balthier grew uncomfortable with silence to the point he glanced behind, although he didn't look directly at her. He shrugged then continued with his dressing, only to pause for a brief moment.

"I thought I told you not to buy armor," he said.

Storm let out a very vexed sigh while banging the back of her head against the wall. "You know," she started, very irritated. "I'm not some sweet innocent girl. I'm a Demonslayer! Besides, if you're so worried about me getting injured then I'm a lot safer in this armor than some thin dress." That was a statement that Balthier was force to agree with.

"Fine. Just don't do anything that will get yourself killed."

Storm grinned at him as he placed his crossbows in his holsters. "Don't worry," she purred. "I'm a lot safer than you'll ever be." Her smirk widen as he glared back at her.

"Good, I'm dangerous enough as it is," he replied back, poking fun at himself. He gave her a hard pat on the shoulder as he passed by her. "Come, our friend is waiting for us."

* * *

><p><strong>And there you have it! Chapter Four! Like always, please review and let me know about any errors I may have made. Also I have a story going on over at Fictionpress. If you think you might be interested in reading it then the link is on my profile! Thanks for the support guys. :)<strong>


	5. Revelations

**Before you guys go all 'wait I've read this before', let me explain to you what's going on! I have combined chapter five with chapter six to make a longer chapter! I'll also be doing this to chapter one and two, and three and four. They should be finished when I post the next chapter! I also changed somethings in the story, so when chapter one is re-uploaded, it may be in your best interest to re-read it. I'm sorry if this confuses anyone or is any inconvenience! I promise that this is the last major turn-over for this story, and from here on out, everything should flow smoothly! Chapters now will be much longer (around 7000-9000 words) so expect updates every two weeks!**

**Now on to the chapter, this chapter has a LEMON in it so please proceed with caution ^_^ and always I'm sure there are a few errors, I'll correct them as soon as I can, and please review. :) **

* * *

><p>Balthier twitched as Storm let out a very bored yawn while they waited in a room for their companion to show. It only had been fifteen minutes, but Storm was already fidgeting around like a hyper child.<p>

She had asked him if she could fetch him a drink, but he replied with the simple statement that he didn't drink. Then, she asked him if she could get him something to eat which he replied that he wasn't hungry (even though he was literally starving).

Now, all she could do was pace back and forth like a beast in a cage that would never see freedom ever again. He just stood there, watching her in silent amusement, with his arms crossed and back leaned up against the wall.

She was a different one, he'd give her that. A little chuckle bursted from him causing Storm to look at him in confusion. Their eyes met for a brief moment, and Balthier let a smile show as he shook his head.

"Don't fret, my dear friend," he reassured her. "My companion always runs a bit late."

Storm moaned as she shuffled to a chair and fell down into it. "Well, he needs to hurry. This room is driving me batty."

He let out another chuckle as he walked towards her. "You know," he began, sitting on the arm of the chair she was in. "You could go take a brief walk or something then come back. Maybe when you get back, I'll be done with him, and we could go out on a hunt. I'm curious to see more of your skills in combat."

"You mean you don't think I can take care of myself," she asked flippantly.

"I just want to see your skills with my own eyes. Besides, we need to have some tactics if we're going to be working together until we get to Westmarch."

"You're serious about leaving me there?" She sounded like he was abandoning her.

He didn't answer her right away. Instead he got up with his mind in the distant past and trended to the window to peer out into the streets. There was a wistful glisten in his eyes while he watched a father carried his son home with his wife's arms wrapped around his.

He remembered what it was like being in that boy's spot along with all the warm feelings of security and love that came with it, but he wanted to know what it was like to be on the other side of that relationship - to be the father and not the child.

Unfortunately for him, life had took him down a twisted path that was cruel to him. He learned the hard way that those he loved would just be in danger because of his recklessness and misfortune. His life was suppose to be filled with bloodshed and loneliness.

But for Storm, everything was different. She still had time to leave this quest behind along with all the pain and insanity that came with it. She could live a normal life - a life he would never experience again.

"Storm," he finally called out, though his voice was cracked as if he would begin to cry. "You are young and beautiful. The life of one who meddles in the affairs of demons is harsh and lonely, and it's a life I wished to spare you from."

He turned to walk back towards her, and kneeled down to her. He glided his hand firmly over hers. He still smiled at her, though it was a very painful and sad one, and there was a hint of longing in his eyes. And he did long; he longed for something he could never experience ever again. He longed for a family - for love - and it hurt him to think of having one again only to lose.

Yet, here he was - enjoying the way her cold but soft hand felt against his warm calloused one. He felt like she understood him in a way that no one else could. It was a feeling he tried to rationalize with since the majority of the time they had spent together had been nothing but bickering. He barely even knew what kind of background she had or the reason she insisted on being a Demonslayer.

She sat there staring into his eyes with a soften expression as if she was reading him. He knew that she must have felt antsy from the way he was acting, but he didn't care. For once, he felt like speaking his heart out to someone, and she was the only one he felt like would understand. If she was feeling uncomfortable with him, she didn't show it either. Instead, she lean her head closer to him with her eyes looking deeply into his.

Those green eyes he so adored danced with compassion.

"Then why don't you heed your own advice," she asked him.

"Wha-" He didn't even get to finished the simple word when her finger came over his lips to silence him. She lifted his chin up so she could continue peering into his eyes.

"You're a broken husk that denies yourself the most basic needs of life. I can see that just by looking at you. Your body is thin from the lack of food, your skin is dry from dehydration, and now you're looking at me in pure loneliness. Why don't you give up on all this suffering and go live the life you want?"

He contemplated this while she ran her hands over the coarse black hair on his face. He couldn't go back to the life he once lived. Vengeance still cried out to him to slaughter the demons that drove fear into the hearts of the innocents.

If he didn't fight, then who would? Who would protect those who couldn't protect themselves from the viciousness of the demons? Who would track down and defeat Diablo once and for all? Who other, but him, would carry out such burdens in hopes of ending this conflict once and for all?

"I cannot go back to that life, even if I tried," he voiced. "But you still can! You can give up this kind of life while you're ahead. Find someone, be happy, live your life in peace. Let us Demon Hunters worry about fighting against the demons - it's what we were meant to do."

"If only it worked like that," she groaned. "I was born a Demonslayer, and I will die as one. You tell me to be happy, and I am. You can leave me in Westmarch if you want to, but I'm still going to be the Demonslayer I always was."

She got up when he refused to say anything else to her. He knew when he was defeated in a conversation, even if he was still insisting inside his head. He took a seat in the chair she was just in, and waited silently for his companion. He didn't have to wait much longer though, because only a few minutes later the door was barged wide open by the fellow he been waiting on.

"Sorry I'm late," Lyndon said groggily. At first, Balthier thought he was dealing with a hangover, but the big bump on the side of Lyndon's head said otherwise. "I ran into the most damnest bitc-" He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Storm.

They both stood there and stared at each other in utter shock which, in a way, scared Balthier._ Please, don't let them be acquainted - please don't._

"You," the both yelled simultaneously with their fingers pointing toward each other.

_Just great_, Balthier thought as he covered his face with his palm.

"Why did you hit me on the side of the head with a trinket box?"

"You asked for it," Storm slyly countered.

"I didn't ask for my purse to be stolen," Lyndon raged. "What did you do with it anyways?"

"I spent it all on some children Balthier saved. Call it your good deed for today," she sneered.

"I always do good deeds! Well, when I'm motivated at least, but that's beside the point!"

"Motivated by what," Storm dryly asked. "The stick in your pants or the lust for money?"

"Actually," he started, rubbing the back of his neck in uneasiness. "Balthier- our noble angsty friend, who seemed to have forgotten how not to be so serious - tends to motivate me the most - mostly by threatening to kill me. . ."

Balthier glared at him with cold eyes that could had acted as arrows themselves. Lyndon trembled in fear at the Demon Hunter, and slowly started to back up with his hands up in front of him like Balthier would pounce on him at any given moment. But instead of raining wrath down on his dear friend, Balthier simply shook his head in disapproval before turn his head and giving Storm a look just as cold.

He tried to conceal a chill that went down his spine as an image of the two making love ran through his mind, but Storm noticed it. Still, he went on as though he didn't care about what the two did to each other, although the thought still ran in the back of his head.

"I guess by the argument that you two are already acquainted?"

"She seduced me while I was drunk then tried to kill by how hard she hit me," Lyndon explained

"He was asking for it!"

Balthier shook his head once more with his palm wiping over his face and a sigh of frustration leaving his lips.

Of all the people he could be friends with, it had to be a low moral scoundrel - which got on his everlasting last nerve by chasing woman, getting drunk, and stealing - and a very vexing mischievous Demonslayer that now was coming off as promiscuous - which made Balthier sick since he expect better from her than that. Yet, he knew he couldn't control their lives so he would deal with it, along with the many other things that kept him clenching his teeth.

"Lyndon," he growled. "I hope you didn't come all this way from Kingsport just to try to get in my partner's bed and then try to pick a fight with her. I thought you came here with something so urgent to say that you couldn't wait for me in Westmarch."

"And I do."

"Then say it," the Demon Hunter demanded in a tone that was almost demonic.

Lyndon dropped down in the nearest seat faster than a bird shot out of the sky while Storm snickered at at him. Balthier looked toward her with a icy gaze that froze her instantly.

"Storm," he addressed her in a calmer but cold manner. "I expect you to behave yourself. Do you understand me?"

She shrewdly nodded at him before retreating toward the window. Both Balthier and Lyndon watched her as she absentmindedly leaned against the window to look out, almost as if she turned herself off from reality and was now living inside her mind. Balthier wished that he could mimic that at times, but he was just too aware of emotions that either ranged from nonexistent to extremely dangerous. There was no inbetweens.

He faced toward Lyndon after shifting back in the chair with a leg over the other and his head propped up against his fist. "I hope you didn't just come here to rob me of my time, Lyndon. I have more important things to worry about than an idle chit chat."

"And I'll make sure it's well worth your time," Lyndon assured him. There was a pause in the conversation as Lyndon glanced slyly at Storm's bottom.

Balthier let out a small cough that shook the man from his perverted stare. "Oh right," Lyndon exclaimed, obviously embarrassed. "I was just. . . umm, looking."

"Get on with it," Balthier growled, but then glanced at Storm in the corner of his eye in the same manner Lyndon had. He quickly caught himself, though, and averted his gaze back to the scoundrel fast enough not to be noticed.

"Do you remember that note we found in the dagger that killed my brother?"

"I do," Balthier agreed. He recalled going to the prisons in Westmarch during Mal'thael's attack in attempt to save Lyndon's brother, Edlin, only to find him dead - supposedly killed by his own wife.

"I been looking into it, and I must say that there's something weird happening to the women in Kingsport."

"Like what?"

"I don't know exactly, but its almost as they're being hypnotized by something. There's even rumors about a cult of women going around kill men. Even when I was there, I saw a man be lynch by a group of women in the name of Lycia - whoever that is. They also was chanting some kind of song about a woman named Loreley." Storm jumped at the name 'Lycia'.

"You know who Lycia is?" Balthier questioned her in a bitter tone.

"I'm surprise a Demon Hunter like you doesn't know about Lycia," she remarked, her eyes still locked on the window. "Lycia is the Aspect of Vengeance, and very dangerous. But she was infused into a soul of a young child decades ago. The last I heard was the girl was staying at a monastery, but that's been awhile ago."

"Still;" Balthier interrupted, "if her cult is looking for a way to free her, I'm sure they will find one, and I'm starting to believe that woman has some answers."

"I don't know, Bal," she replied while agitating him with his new nickname. "Lycia was the first daughter of Diablo. If they are trying to free her, I think we best to stop them. Lycia has been known to start entire wars by flinging with one emotion."

The tale was interesting to Balthier, but he still wasn't convinced about what this had to do about Lyndon's sister-in-law. "Sounds scary, but why would you think Rea would be among them - much less killed her own husband because of it?"

"During the lynch, I saw her take a dagger to the man's throat. She's part of it." Lyndon hunched over in his chair with a grim expression. "Look, you've been a very valuable friend to me, Balthier, but I need to ask you for one more favor. I promise I'll pay you back, just tell what the catch is."

He knew what Lyndon was going to ask for, and he knew why. This woman they were talking about was the only woman that Lyndon had ever truly loved. But she betrayed him by marrying his brother, and then came between the two when Edlin was caught during the Merchant's Guild Bank Heist. Now she had kill the man's only brother for what seemed to be no reason besides her strange joining to some cult. He almost felt sorry for the scoundrel.

"Just say the word," Balthier flippantly said with a wave of a hand.

"Come with me to Kingsport," he begged. "Help me find out why she killed my brother. I wanna see that witch burn, too."

A vicious grin came across Balthier's face as he leaned forward, eyes blazing and focusing right on Lyndon. He had sealed his part of the deal. Now it was Balthier's turn.

"Alright, but I need to take care of some things here before I can go wandering off to Kingsport. I could use your help, friend."

"Lemme guess," Lyndon sighed, slumping down into his seat. "More demons?" He was rewarded with a stiff nod. "That's just great. What are we dealing with this time?"

"For the past 5 months, I been hunting Diablo and looking for a way to defeat him permanently. I came here to New Tristram mostly because of the increase in demon activity. It's no secret that Diablo loves to rain chaos down on the specific region."

"And you want me to help you find him," Lyndon interrupted.

"Yes. I haven't got much of a lead yet, but I found cultists, some which are pledging themselves to Lycia, are hanging around here. There's also this." He pulled out the amulet that he had showed Storm and tossed it gently to Lyndon for inspection.

"This would fetch a nice price on the market," he remarked after a minute of running through the details of the amulet's design. "Where'd you get it?"

"I found a woman along with some children that were being held by some cultists. I use to believe the amulet belongs to her, but now I think it has some connection with this Lycia person. The woman could probably tell me a thing or two about it, but I won't know until she wakes up, though. Seems like our cases might run into one another, Lyndon."

"Great," Lyndon exclaimed sarcastically, standing up. "Well, looks like we're playing the waiting game! Well, if you need me I'll be somewhere drunk."

"Lyndon, I need you to be serious on this," Balthier raged. He shot up out of his seat with his fist clenched in enough anger to fill three thousand men. "Diablo is back, and this time he may try to annihilate anyone he possibly can! We don't have time to drink!"

"He's right, Balthier," Storm interrupted loud but calm. He spun around on his heels to face her with a gaze cold enough to freeze blood, but she was too concern with something happening outside. "We can't do anything until she awakes so, by all means, let him do what he wants to while we wait. Until then, me and you have some business to take care of."

She motioned for him to take a look at the window which made his anger die down as he became curious to what she saw. He placed an arm against the window as he peered in the direction she was looking with bewilderment that quickly dawned to understandment.

The priest from earlier walked the lonely streets of the town towards the old house of Deckard Cain with three large jars of what appeared to be blood. He watched as the man stop just short of the door and looked around for any snooping spies. When the man saw none, he continued on in with the door closing behind him.

Balthier looked over towards Storm who met his gaze with a nod.

"We better go check it out," she suggested. Balthier agreed.

"What should I do," Lyndon asked them as Balthier picked up his crossbows that had been laying on the coffee table and placed them into their holsters.

"Stay here," he commanded. "Protect the kids and their sister from any threat. I don't care if you have to put them in the same room, just do it! She's in room 302."

Balthier motion for Storm to follow him as he bursted through the door and down the hallway. She was close on his heels as they jumped down the stairs, out the inn, and into the shadows of the alley between the tavern and Cain's house.

Lyndon let out a small sigh as he trailed out of the room and down the opposite way Balthier and Storm had went until he stood at the room Balthier mentioned. His hand rested on the doorknob as he reluctantly thought of the deal he made with Balthier.

He didn't really enjoy the Demon Hunter's company that much at times (especially when he criticized Lyndon on his low morals or when he appeared to be almost inhuman), but Balthier was an overall kind and generous person who cared a lot for his companions. He had offered to help Lyndon out more than once since their first meeting at the little mill, and it hasn't just been Lyndon Balthier has help.

The Demon Hunter has helped hundreds of people including the Templar Lyndon despised, Eirena, Leah, citizens, and children- anyone who was being terrorized by demons. Everytime, Balthier was there trying his absolute best to help someone even if in the end he failed. Lyndon shuttered as the memories played back.

Every person Balthier failed to save pushed him just a little bit closer to insanity. Every time the Demon Hunter walked away from a tragic scene, Lyndon could see the rage in his eyes like fire set to a building. He knew Balthier, though kind and honorable under all the scars and torment he has endured, was growing more and more unstable as the demons terror raised on.

And now here he was, standing beside the Demon Hunter in his obsessive quest to stop something that was beyond his powers and growing more frantic as time continued on without giving up answers. Even though Balthier was cool and collect on the outside, Lyndon knew that one more tragic event or one more betrayal would make his dear friend snap. He shook his head at the thought before turning the knob.

The room was filled with a purple eerie light as Lyndon stepped in. Right away he knew he was in trouble as his eyes met with the empty sockets of a skeleton demon performing some dark ritual on the woman he was suppose to protecting. The door slammed shut behind him then sealed it self in some magical seal as the demon let out a frantic laugh.

"Oh gods," exclaimed Lyndon. He was totally unprepared for the wave of dark arcane energy heading straight for him.

* * *

><p>Storm and Balthier hid behind a bush beside the tavern. Through the thin limbs, they saw flashing lights that ranged from purple to red to black radiating through the window.<p>

"That isn't some holy prayer he's working on," Storm stated as she moved closer to

Balthier. "Something bad is going on in there."

Balthier squinted his eyes. "I knew there was something off about that man."

The demonic light show suddenly stopped with a nearly inaudible from the outside rumble. Storm nudge Balthier on the shoulder before she creeped out from the brush and slowly up to the corner of the house where she hid just out of sight of the windows. She tried to take a look inside the house, but it was just too dark to see anything. She started at the muffled shuffling Balthier made as he took his place beside her.

"We'll have to use the back door," he said as she turned to face him.

"But it's locked."

He shot her a quick glance with a smirk on his face as he pulled out a lockpick from his pouch. "The things you can learn from a thief," he chuckled.

He stealthed around the side toward the back door where he silently picked the lock. The door creaked open half way to allow just enough room for them to enter. They took care not to make a sound or to stumble in the dark which would alert the man to their presence. They both searched through the bedrooms, living room, and kitchen without a trace of the suspect.

In the hallway, Balthier glanced at Storm in silent questioning in which she responded by shaking her head. He sighed inwardly to himself in both lost hope and frustration. He wanted answers, and he wanted them now! Storm gesture with her hands a symbol that Balthier understood to mean basement.

He nodded in understanding before creeping down the hallway. He carefully searched the doors for a stairway that would lead down into the basement. When he finally found it, he motioned for Storm across the far end of the hall. As she silently approached, he heard demonic chanting echoing from the stairwell.

"Looks like you were right," she whispered to him. He scoffed at the remark.

Step by step they took till they reached the bottom to hide behind rum barrels and flour sacks. Balthier peeked from the spot to watch the priest perform a dark ritual in a center of a blood drawn pentagram.

A manic laughter came from the ceiling above them. A shiver sent them both trembling as they looked up to see a nasty black dog like aberration perched on the rafters. It jumped on top of Balthier before the Hunter had time to pull out his crossbows. With a nasty bite, its teeth pierced through his side as the demon shook him violently in its mouth.

A loud growl escaped the long snout as it tossed Balthier ruthlessly to the feet of the priest. He tried desperately to grab hold of his crossbows, however the priest blasted him with a bolt of black magic that paralyzed him before running into the ground and toward Storm.

The Hellhound - as Balthier refer to the dog like creature - cornered a paralyzed Storm in the corner with five of its brothers backing it up. The priest bent down to Balthier's eye level and scoffed.

"Bastard," Balthier gritted out to the man that was crouching down to him. He would have spat in the man's face if it wasn't for this choking sensation that he had in his throat from the black magic. "Who are you!?"

The priest let out a heavy sigh. "That's what everyone asks. . . right before I kill them."

Balthier narrowed his eyes at the man and growled. He tried to tug himself free from the binding spell, but it did no good. He was helpless in this situation.

"But for you, I won't kill you just yet," he continued. " My lord wants you to live, Nephalem, so you can witness your precious world fall into darkness once and for all."

He reached down in Balthier's pouch to retrieve the amulet that belong to the woman with a mocking laugh that challenged Balthier.

"I won't let you do this," Balthier blurted out. "Diablo will fall before me just like last time. Only this time it will be more permanent!"

"And what exactly will you do about it?" the priest asked him while walking away. "Diablo is not the demon you remember him to be. He is a lot smarter, and he has sent an enemy out just for you. One that I'm sure you will find to be most challenging."

"And just what is he sending after me? Another terror demon for me to laugh at?"

Balthier was answered by another chuckle from the man. "No," the priest replied. "This time you will be pitted against your own very reflection - your own heart, if you will. However, Lycia must be freed before giving chase to you. That's where this comes in." He flashed Balthier the amulet in his hand. "Pathetic how the one who sealed her away gave the key to a pathetic woman. Oh, and for that woman - your friend has failed. My minions have her. She will be good bait for my other target. . ."

"You won't get away with this," Balthier growled.

A purple energy vortexed around the man like a portal of some sort that would soon vaporize him into some unknown location. "I think I already have," the man snickered. "Oh, and by the way, my name is Zelken - in case you want to memorize it."

Balthier watched in pure rage as the vortex opened, sucking the man into a new location away from Tristrem. Twice now the name Lycia had come up. Apparently, she had some connection to both the cult of woman in Kingsport and to Diablo. And apparently, she was trapped.

That amulet he had found was a key to her prison, which meant he had to find it! But where did Zelken go with it? Better yet, what did he mean by Lyndon had failed? A chill ran down his spine as the realization hit him.

Lyndon was probably dead!

A scream pierced his ears as the magic that was binding him faded. He flipped over to his stomach while drawing his crossbows. The Hellhounds that surrounded Storm pounced on top of her and started to bite and scratch at her

. Balthier shot at the one tearing at her left arm while she kicked the one on top of her. He shot the other two that perched on top of her, letting her get away before the other one could lung at her.

Balthier unleashed his bolts at the disgusting demons in a spray of fiery projectiles that none had a chance of escaping from. The rain of fiery bolts showered down on the demons to ignite their mangy furs even after the bolts had tore them apart. He rushed over to Storm as the Hellhounds howled in agony at the fire that was burning them to ash.

"Are you okay?" he asked her, running a hand over the scratch she received on her cheek.

"I'm fine," she replied. She grabbed Balthier's hand and pulled him toward the stairs in an urgency that astounded him. "We need to hurry back to Lyndon," she yelled at him when he didn't budge at her yanking. "He could be in trouble!"

The Demon Hunter snapped out of his impromptu trance by batting his eyes rapidly before staring at her with a slight nod of agreement. He broke his hand free from her and darted up the stairs with her following quickly at his side.

They hastily exited the house and sprinted across the street to the inn where they bursted through the front door loudly enough to startle the innkeeper. They said no apologies though as they charged down the halls and almost flew up the staircase.

Down the second floor halls, Balthier raced through until he eyed the room of the woman he rescued. He barged through it with great haste, only to see the bed empty with the covers thrown back. The window was wide open, its curtains dancing in the light breeze that blew into the room. Lyndon laid on the floor, seemingly not even breathing.

Balthier strode toward the window to peer out for any trace of the culprit responsible for this, but he found nothing but a tree that rustled with the wind.

"Damn it," he cried out in rage as he pushed away from the window.

He turned to face Storm, who was crouching down with Lyndon in her arms, and dropped to his knees beside them. Storm eyed the Demon Hunter with worry at his face gone pale, paler than the Scoundrel even. She didn't know that Lyndon was one of the few people Balthier could actually call a friend. Sure, the Scoundrel always got on his nerves, but in the end, Lyndon had always been there to help the Demon Hunter.

"Lyndon," Balthier cried out shakily. "Stay with us!"

A dry cough escaped from Lyndon's lips when he attempted to gasp for air. He let out a groan of pain before turning his head toward the Hunter. "Cathedral," he whispered hoarsely. "They. . . took her . . . to the cathedral. . ."

Balthier watched in horror as the Scoundrel went limp in Storm's arms. Whoever did this, he swore that he would make them pay! Then another terrifying thought came to his mind: If this happened to Lyndon, then what could have happened to the twins?

"Where are the children?" Balthier asked Storm in urgency.

"Down the hall, to the right," she instructed him. "I left them in room 324. Go; I'll stay here with Lyndon."

He gave her a slight nod before he slowly eased up, taking one last glimpse of Lyndon as he rose. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice the softest that Storm has ever heard coming from the Demon Hunter.

Before she had time to say anything else to him, he bursted out into the halls, down the direction Storm pointed him to. 320...322...324!

He stopped abruptly at the door, reminding himself that these were children that had been through enough already without him barging in on them with news that their older sister was gone. He took a deep breath while he slowly turned the door knob and open the door. He kept his eyes close as he walked in with the door closing immediately behind him.

That little calm facade he had shattered like glass the instant he opened his eyes.

The entire room was a wreck. Blood stained the walls, beds and chairs lied carelessly on the floor, wallpaper was tore down, and the window between the beds was broken. Balthier stood in a rage-induced daze while he took in the whole scene. Cries screeched in his ears as Carly came out underneath one of the beds, frighten and blood-coated. She ran to latch on to her savior with tears of horror in her eyes.

"Where is your brother?" Balthier shuttered out as he stared incomprehensible at the scene.

"Bubba's bleeding," she screamed. She pulled Balthier by his finger, which was almost as big as her tiny hand, until they stood beside a bed that had been flipped against the wall.

By the wall, the Demon Hunter could see a little body stuff between the wall and bed, it's little blonde head was dyed red. For a moment, his heart stopped while he pulled the little boy out of the hole. He felt for a pulse but couldn't find none. He fell to his knees while he cradled the young boy in his arms.

Tears left his eyes to crash down on the little boy face as if he, too, were crying. Balthier had failed once again. That's all he did. He was destined fail miserably at any attempt to save those he loved.

He took in the boy's bloody vistage to remind himself that this is why he couldn't love. Those that he formed emotional attachment to were destined to die. But all this sorrow he was feeling was just fuel to the fire for him.

Soon, tears stopped flowing and all the sadness he felt slowly turned into rage and hate. He'd find who did this and when he did, he would tear them limb by limb until there was nothing left.

He stood up with Nicky in his arms and walked slowly back to the room, Carly trialing quietly behind him. Storm had managed somehow to place Lyndon on the bed. The Scoundrel's breathing was light but steady.

Balthier looked at Storm with his eyes beaming red from all the rage that stirred up inside him. Carelessly, he threw Nicky down into a chair and turn to leave.

"Stay here," he commanded Storm coldly.

"Where are you going?"

"To find whoever is responsible for this," he raged, turning briefly to point to Nicky. "You are to stay here and keep an eye on these thre- two!"

He did not wait for an answer. He continued on to marched down the halls, his fist tightly clutched at his side. Lyndon had told him that the old Tristram Cathedral was were they had taken the woman, and he bet Zelken was also there somewhere too.

Lucky enough for Balthier, he knew that place well. He would tear it down to its foundation if he had to in order to get his revenge. And whoever this Lycia person was, he'll find her and kill her too - after she told him where Diablo was.

Outside the warmth of the Inn, a storm had settled, but it would not hinder the Demon Hunter. He flipped the hood of his cloak up, and continued to walk the lonely roads of New Tristram in the rain. His gaze stayed fixated on the ground while he walked.

Rage coursed through his veins to the point where he nearly believed it had replaced his blood flow. It would take a few hours to strode to the Cathedral, but it didn't matter. The Demon Hunter had revenge on his mind, and when he lusted for vengeance, vengeance was what he was going to get. No matter the cost.

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><p>Zelken moved from the shadows of the overlook of New Tristram with mild amusement. The Demon Hunter was marching foolishly to the steps of the Cathedral in hopes of avenging the little boy; it was a foolish attempt.<p>

"Was it really necessary to kill the child?" a seductive voice asked him.

"I had to do what I had to do, my Lycia," he replied, still staring over the town. He turned toward the Demon Lady, kneeling down in respect, then ran his lips over her purplish hand. "As you can see, the Demon Hunter has more then enough vengeance to unlock your full power from the amulet, Milady."

"And more than enough vengeance for me to feed on," Lycia laughed. "Not only that, but he will lead me straight to the angel for me to kill."

"Aye," Zelken nodded in agreement. "That weapon Diablo gave you is strong enough to kill Diablo himself. I hope you take care with it."

"I will."

Zelken dared to look up at her. To most of her followers, this would had been asking for a instant death, but the Warlock had been at Lycia's side for decades. He had obeyed her ever order, had proved for her ever lust-filled need, and was the most loyal subject she had. Of course she wouldn't rain down wrath on him.

"Will you follow him?" he asked when she met his gaze with her white eyes.

"I have to," she responded. "I can't let him die so soon."

"Then take this," he said respectfully as he pulled out a little engraved silver box, only big enough for a pocket knife. "It's a spear, my mistress. I hope you can find use for it."

Lycia took the box with minor surprise. He watched with anticipation at her opening it to reveal a silver folded spear, which resembled a closed pocket knife, that could be easily carried in her pocket. A little smile formed on the Demon Lady's lips, giving the Warlock much needed satisfaction of pleasing his mistress.

She delicately placed the weapon in a loop of her belt before she motion with a quick turn of her wrist for Zelken to stand, which he did, then she approached him with her arms coming up to rake through his mangy brown hair.

A shiver of desire rushed over Zelken at his mistress's touch. It had been so long since he had been allowed to taste her. Now, here in the middle of the night, overlooking a sleeping town, he found his lust for Lycia skyrocketing to an all time high. He tentatively, with the utmost caution, slid his hands around her cold bare waist.

When she didn't reject - in fact, doing the direct opposite by grinding her hips against his arousing groin - he dared skimmed his hand under the thin fabric at her hips, which could hardly be called a skirt, and grabbed her bare bottom. He was actually not surprise that she hadn't wore nothing under her skimpy outfit; he knew that she had been known to wear less than what she was currently in.

"Thank you," she whispered seductively in his ear. "Your lady is impressed."

Zelken knew not to say anything in return, or else he would ruin the moment between them. He gave a slight nod, the only nod he could give since his head was being held down to her neck as she continued to rake through his hair. Her hands trailed down to his shoulders, where she massage them.

Zelken could feel his body burn in torture of how slow she was going, just so she could tease him. He felt himself grow harder and was almost daring to pounce on top of her, but he knew where that would get him - on the ground in absolute agony.

He felt like going insane when she pulled the robe loose so that it fell off his lightly bronze touched shoulder. A low groan slipped from his lips while he arched his head back to exposed his neck for her to bite. It was just a little love bite, barely hard enough for him to feel any pain, but it drove him mad with ecstasy.

His other hand slowly trailed down to her hips, around to her bottom, and he squeezed the firm flesh before his hand skimmed around to the dampening bundle of nerves in the front. A little jolt rippled through the Demon Lady's body, and he knew he had seal his fate to what would come next.

The next thing the Warlock could register was him thrown down into a patch of nearby weeds, stripped of his robe. He saw a glimpse of Lycia walked toward him through the blockade of grass, and became overwhelmed with lusting excitement when she pounced down on top of him, nude. She drove her fangs deep into his neck, but the cry he let out was more of pleasure than actual pain.

His hands roamed freely over her body till they reach her humble breasts. At the same time, he felt her hand move down to cup the enlarge part of him that was still locked away in his pants. She arched up so he could bring her ebony nipple to his mouth, his tongue flicking at it while his teeth grinded against the perky bulb. His fingers rubbed teasingly over her other nipple, sending a tidal wave of pure bliss over Lycia, which rippled through him as well.

Zelken let out a groan when Lycia pulled back his pants to let the large appendage out from its suffocating prison. Lycia's lips brush over Zelken's more coarser ones, lightly parting them enough for her to slide her tongue into his mouth. The two lovers waged on in a lust-filled battle of tongues while her hand stroke the long shaft that throbbed in wanting her.

Zelken could feel her shifting her weight down on him so that the dampen lips of her feminine region rubbed against his throbbing groin. Slowly, she brought herself down on to him, all while letting sweet moans of bliss fill Zelken ears, just like how he was filling her. He started to pump into her, slowly at at first, letting his ravaging desires to be one with his mistress overcome him into the brink of insanity.

He pumped more rapidly as the need to satisfy his lusting member grew into a torrent of tormenting pleasure. Lycia was arched back, her body on full display to him. He watched her breasts bounce with every little thrust he made. It drove him nuts.

The rapid sensation sent them shooting to the stars as his hot juices squirted forth inside her, mixing with her own. Lycia fell down on top of Zelken, his arms automatically snaked around her, while they shared a moment of fulfillment. The stars danced above them almost as if they were delighted to see the two together. Zelken knew the moment wouldn't last very long, though, so he buried his head in her neck and took in as much of this moment he could until she broke free.

"You going to look for the Demon Hunter, aren't you?" He asked hurt.

"I must," she replied as she placed her clothes back on.

"Stay," he begged her. "It will be awhile before he gets there."

"I can't. I have things I must do to ensure he doesn't realize anything too soon."

He sat up from the weeds, and watch longfully as she changed into her human disguise. He didn't like her human appearance, which appeared a little less mature than her demon self, as much. Her white flowing locks turned blacker than the night sky, and her skin went pale. Her once almond shape eyes rounded out to larger ones that hid green irises instead of white. Her height shorten considerably, and her body became thin and shapeless, whereas it use to be curvy and muscular.

But the most important thing that irritated him was that she was no longer Lycia, the Aspect of Vengeance,Daughter of Diablo. No, in this form she was now his enemy, and that put a strung in Zelken's heart. Now, she was simply Storm, the Demonslayer.

"You know," she purred in astonishment. "He often seems cold and distance, but under that facade lies a carefree man who only wants happiness and peace, but doesn't wants to admit it. I actually find him being a bit bashful in some ways. It's. . . cute."

"I hope you know what you're doing, Lyc- Storm. If he finds out, he'll kill you."

Storm simply ignored his warning as she turned to walk down the past the Demon Hunter had took, thus leaving her lover nude in a patch of dry weeds. Zelken watched as she faded into the distance down the road, every step she took sent a little arrow piercing through his heart that had her name written all on it.

"Oh Lycia," he sighed in part bliss, part torment. "Why do I have this feeling that you have your eyes on the Demon Hunter more than just prey? After all I've done for you, and now you shall betray me for someone who will only be repulsed by the real you."

He took another long sigh before he laid back into the weed, even forsaking his robe in the middle of the street. His eyes wandered up to the night sky to search the stars in mere longing. He felt lonely here with out his lover, but he knew what would happen if he tried to stop her.

He only hope she was toying with the Demon Hunter and that nothing serious would be born from it. He ran his mind through countless scenarios of the Demon Hunter taking his place beside his lady, and soon rage was coursing through his veins at the Hunter but that was soon replaced by the desire of his love.

"No one shall come between me and you, my dear Lycia," he whispered into the abyss. "I'll kill that Demon Hunter before I let that happen."

He look to the stars once more to see them dancing wildly at his silent promise. They enchanted him away from the world around him, and soon he had lull himself to sleep. As he slept, sweet dreams of his love played through his mind, letting him relive some of their most cherished memories.

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><p>On the long path to the Cathedral, Storm felt somewhat tensed about her life. On one hand, she wanted to make her father proud by carrying out his orders, but on another, she longed to find a new path away from all of this senseless goose chase. Yet, she wanted revenge on the angel that trapped her in the soul of some little child. But what about Balthier? Did he deserve being led on because of this?<p>

To her, the answer was a simple no. Even though her father wanted Balthier dead, in her heart she felt a slight tinge of guilt. He was a Demon Hunter, a human embodiment of vengeance in itself.

He was basically a part of her, a little shattered piece that got lost somewhere along the way in pursuit of happiness, which she wanted him to have most of all - just like how she wanted all her minions to be satisfied in their lives. She felt like she was betraying one of her personal minions, not one of her father's, in which she got rid of so easily.

It was strange of her to think herself as kind, but when truth came into it, that's exactly what she was. She was kind to those who serve her, and she wanted to be kind to humans as well. Yes, she had caused wars in the past, but all of them were at her father's will and not her own.

Giving the choice, she wouldn't had started any of them. She was the Aspect of Vengeance, not hatred, yet that what she found herself sparking vengeance from, nothing but pure hatred for something or someone. Her idea of vengeance was that of retribution, to demand vengeance when justice had failed. But as long as her father controlled her, she knew that would never happen. She needed her freedom.

A little idea hit her then, a little stupid 'what if' thing that almost sounded crazy to work.

What if Balthier could help her gain her freedom? She would have to keep her identity a secret up to the very end, but if he could help free her, then Diablo's plan would crumble around him. Not only that, but Lycia had full control of her powers back, she would hear the cries of those calling out for retribution at Diablo. She smiled at herself at the thought. Yes, it was crazy, but worth a try.

With her renewed hope set in the palms of the Demon Hunter, Lycia, Aspect of Vengeance and Retribution, promised to herself that she would value Balthier's whole life over anything else. And when he had finally free her from Diablo, she would make sure he. . . was hers.


	6. A Closing Relationship

**Man, all I'm going to say about this chapter is that the Writer's Block is real. T_T If some of the wording sucks, I do apologize in advance! Also, I finished part of my revision! Just got to finish Chapter One, and everything should be uploaded and fixed! I want to thank you guys for such awesome support of this story! :) You guys rock!**

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><p>From the entrance gate of the ruins of Old Tristram, Storm could see Balthier inspecting a fresh corpse beside what could have once been a cozy home for a family that was just starting out. The destruction round her made her feel queasy. There were corpses laying everywhere, blood lined the eroded streets, buildings that had been burnt to their foundations now crumbled at the slightest movements, and there was a dark lingering in the air, demons that were waiting to ambush their next prey. Did her father really cause all of. . . all of this destruction? It uneased her to think about all the lives that had been ruined in her father's wrath down on the mortal realm.<p>

Vengeful souls that could not find rest called out to her for retribution, but she was force to ignore those pleads that pricked at her heart. She had no power against her jailer, not while she was his prisoner, but she solemnly swore to the spirits that were whispering in her ear to kill the Lord of Terror, her own father, that once Balthier had foolishly freed her from her chains, she would answer to their painstaking cries. Until then, she would just have to play along with the games Diablo had plan for her to take part in.

She walked slowly through the ruins of the town, towards the hooded man that was still crouched down beside the corpse. Even from this distance, Storm could feel the intensity of his hatred cloud around the area as if some demonic manifestation was taking form right in front of her eyes. He frightened her with how much hatred he showed toward her kind, and she was the Aspect of Vengeance, a demon he couldn't kill even if he tried. It was no wonder why the demons stayed their place.

She paused right beside him, unable to do nothing but stand. She watched as he pulled a claw out of the body and examined it carefully. It curved into a slight hook with blood coloring it a blackish red. She'd seen those claws before on Alpha Hellhounds. Balthier sighed in frustration then tossed the claw carelessly to the ground before turning his head slightly to her general direction.

"I thought I told you to stay at the inn," he snapped coldly.

Storm sighed at him. Of course he took his anger out on her; she was the only being here. "I've done all I can there," she pressed bitterly. "Nothing I will do will bring the boy back or help Lyndon recover any faster. My efforts are best redirected towards helping you."

"Still," he barked. He whipped up towards her so quickly she flinched back in surprise. Her eyes widened in a shock gaze at the frozen hand he had lifted above his head, indicating that it was by pure will that he hadn't backhanded her to the ground. He met her eyes with his cold gaze, the fire in his blue orbs had turned to cobalt.

"This isn't some little imp we're after, Storm," he spat after regaining control "This is a Demon Lord with a whole army of hellspawn at their back! I told you to stay at the inn where it was safe! You're too inexperience to be out fighting against. . . _this." _ He pointed toward the mangle corpse on the ground only a foot away. "You think you want to be a part of this bloodshed, but I tell you right now it will ruin your life to the point where you're just dying to throw yourself off the nearest cliff! I know, Storm. I have lived that life, and I regret it with every single breath I take!"

There he was doing it again! He was treating her like some idiotic child that didn't know which way to turn! Her hands balled up into tight fists at her side, and her jaw became painfully set as her teeth grinded together. Her rage-filled eyes clashed with his, a glimmer of red skimmed through them. His icy cold eyes locked on to her while she narrowed her darkening greens ones in anger. Neither one backed down.

"You know," she retorted with a stomp of a foot. "I don't know where along the way you gotten the idea I was some helpless child, but it needs to stop!" She took a slight pause to watch him turn his head to the side and adverted his eyes to the ground like a little child being scolded. "Everything your telling me about the demons I already know! I know what they are capable of - I've been witnessing it since I was born, Balthier. I don't want a normal life - I can't have a normal life - not when I don't even know what a normal life is!"

"But-"

"No buts! What part of 'I was born a Demonslayer' don't you understand?"

He went to speak, but the words were stuck in his throat. Storm saw him swallow a lump in his throat. She waited patiently with her arms crossed for him to answer her question. All the while, she study him with interest as he stood there with his eyes glued to his feet, deep in thought, no doubt. He sheepishly met her eyes for a brief moment before turning his head in a way that made him appear bashful to her.

"You mean you never had a childhood?" His voice was cracked and thick like he had been crying a river of tears.

"Not unless you want to call learning how to rip someone apart a childhood," she sarcastically retorted.

He fell back into another thoughtful daze. She looked at him with curiosity getting the better of her while his hands trembled by his side, and she could see him chewing on his tongue by the way his jaw moved. What in the world did this man have going inside his head?

"Storm," he called to her. She started at the way his voice sounded, broken with a hint of sorrow and. . . was it love she heard? Or perhaps it was pity?

"Yes?" she called back to him after a minute, when he failed to say nothing else. She cocked her head to the side with eagerness to hear what he had to say. Would he just turn back cold and demand her to go back to the inn? Or was there some sentiment lingering through him somewhere begging to be released?

"I-" He was cut short by a ear-piercing screech coming from the path that intersected where they stood.

Both of them went on full alert, but it was Balthier that turned to dash off toward the sound. "Bal- wait," Storm yelled as she went after the Demon Hunter.

A large oak tree, probably cut down by the demons, barricaded the path a ways down, but it would not hinder the Demon Hunter in making it to his query. Even though he felt Storm come to an abrupt halt behind him, he vaulted over the dead plant and continued onward as if the obstacle had never been present. The sound of rushing water, layering over the cries of a small girl, evaded his ears, jarring him briefly in his steps. A tidal wave of memories flooded over him, but he force them back into the little void that was deep in his mind. Just ahead, he saw a small bridge arching over a rapid river.

Balthier peered over the edge of the bridge. A little girl, no more than five, held on desperately to a tree root while the oncoming current raged against her. She looked up at Balthier with fear in her hazel eyes and panic in her cries. "Hold on," Balthier called to her. "I'll get you!"

He leaned over the bridge with his arm stretching out to the little girl. She held on tightly to the root, but the water was just too great for her little body to handle and washed her downstream. Balthier froze, his mind warped back into the decades, no longer a Demon Hunter, but a small boy chasing his sister through the woods during her hysteria. He had screamed for her to stop, screamed for her until his voice grew hoarse, but she still ran from the visions in her mind. Next thing he knew, she was washed away down river, only to be found by him a week later, waterlogged and no longer living. It was as if that same event was playing out again. Only this time he would save her.

Without much of a second thought, Balthier plunged himself down into the cold water to dive after the girl. The currents carried them both downstream as he attempted to grab on to her. From the bridge, Storm's cries were drowned out by the rapids while she watched helplessly as her friend was swept away. The man was a bigger idiot than he looked! In a wave of vexation, Storm pushed herself away from the edge to begin working her way through the overgrowth cluttering near the riverbank to follow them on foot.

Meanwhile, Balthier tried desperately to keep his head above the water. The currents sought to bring him down to a watery grave, but Balthier fought on in desperation for the little girl. A gasp left his throat right before the rapids washed him under. That's when he decided it was best not to fight against the currents but to use them them to his advantage.

While still submerged under the water, Balthier opened his burning eyes to scan the murky water for any signs of the girl. Sure enough, a pair of little feet battered on in a helpless flutter just a meter in front of him. A small weed entangled around her foot to bring her to a halt thus allowing the currents pressed against her feeble body, carrying Balthier with them. He snagged his arm around her waist and in a burst, broke through the waves for much needed air.

Downstream, he saw vines snaking down from the branches of a weeping willow into the water. He position himself against the torrent in order to turn sideways so that his feet could find support on the oncoming rocks. He pushed off of them as far as he could to the other side of the river. The currents forced him under once again, bringing him unprepared down toward the riverbed. Balthier held his breath; his freed hand searched for something to grab on to in order to pull himself free from the raging water. His hand latched onto a steady vine of the willow tree, and with a strong tug he emerged from the depths of the river. He thrust himself forward from the water and his feet came in contact with the riverbank.

He brought the little girl onto dry land. In his arms, she coughed up the water that had been forced into her small lungs while Balthier gazed down at her, purely hysteric. He saved her! For once he was able to save someone from an awful premature death! No, it was more than just that. . . He had saved her from sharing the same horrible fate his sister had! If only he was able to have done that for Halissa so many years ago. . .

She looked up at him with a smile on her face, eyes glazed with thankfulness. Relief washed over him as he fell to the ground on his back and light caressed the young girl's cheek. _She'll be okay_, he told himself, closing his eyes with victory shining over him. He heard Storm call his name from somewhere in the brushel. He cocked his head toward the general direction he heard her voice from. The leaves of a plant rustled before waivering back like curtains of a stage to revealed the beautiful petite that raced urgently to his side.

Balthier, still in a out-of-it daze, lidded his eyes partially, letting them widely dance, for the first time, over Storm's body. She wasn't a drop dead beauty, but there was something about the way her appearance was mixed in a perfect balance of dark and light (and that her body looked to be just so _compatible _with his) that just drove him wild with curiosity. If only her personality was just a little bit more agreeable and less demanding. . . Yet, he couldn't get over of this feeling of _wrongness _he had about her.

The little tranquility that radiated on his face wrapped into confusion when Storm pulled out something that resembled a pocketknife. With a flick of the blade though, it transformed into a double sided spear. Balthier watched in utter shock as Storm flung herself down on top of the little girl then proceeded to impale the child he just save with her spear, sending a spray of blood across Balthier's face.

With the speed that could challenged that of sound, Balthier pinned Storm down painfully beneath him, his eyes were a solid red that was painted by his outrage. Storm cringed in agony; her arms felt bruise in his grip. He began to shake her violently all while screaming in pure fury at her.

"Why did you kill her?" he scream, nearly in tears. "She was just an innocent girl!"

"Bal.. thier," Storm choked out. "Look."

Balthier rapidly turned towards the girl. Her flesh had became earthy grey and seemingly melted off of her. Eye sockets had become hollow with a beady red light shining in the center of them, and her hair rivaled the moon. What was worse was the fact that she was still alive, crawling slowly towards them. Balthier started at the realization; this wasn't a little girl but a demon! He took out a crossbow, which suprisely survived the hellride down the river, and beheaded the abomination with one precise shot.

He turned back towards Storm, still on the ground, with his mouth agape, heart pounding in his chest. A huff of air escaped him as he reluctantly reached a hand out for her to take, his eye were adverted to the ground.

"I-"

"Don't say it," she interrupted him. She gently placed her hand into his with a small yelp leaving her lips as he pulled her to him.

"I'm sorry," he said, shame lining through his already rough voice. "I did not know."

"I already forgave you," she replied to him, minorly shocking the Demon Hunter enough for him to look at her in puzzlement.

"Do you?" His voice was so quiet she had to strain to hear it.

"Why wouldn't I?" She shot back, arms crossed. By the slight flush that shown on his face, she would had almost called him cute. It was attractive how he was so bashful when it came to feelings other than hate.

"Because. . .," he stammered, "I've been a stubborn ass lately. I'm sorry; it's just for some reason I've been very frantic lately. . ."

"Mmhmm. . .You've also been very overprotective of me too," she added flippantly.

"I don't want you to die on me." It was simple and straight to the point, but he felt like he _had_ to elaborate on it by adding, "I've lost too many people I've cared about for me to lose any more."

Storm felt a tinge of sympathy for the man. She knew what Demon Hunters went through, the heartbreak that each one of them faced. Each one of them was a living tragedy, never to resort back to their own lives ever again. Most of them turned to stone so it touched her that he would come out with this kind of sentiment.

"But you don't care about me," she voiced with minor apprehension before adding very softly, "do you?"

"I do." He took a slight pause to look at her with a mischievous playful smirk. "Most of the time."

"What do you mean 'most of the time'?" Storm raged hysterically, making the Demon Hunter let out a small chuckle.

"Sometimes you are as stubborn as I am," he chuckled. "Other times you remind me of my sister and this woman I use to love."

"Use to?" she echoed in disbelief. "You use to have feelings for someone?"

He hunched his shoulders down with a long painful sigh, "I did," he admitted painfully. "Though she never knew how I felt about her."

In the moonlight, Storm could see a tear glistening in his eye. He was full of regrets, even she could see that. He turned away to hide his emotions away from her, his back tensed in restraint. He strode forth toward the demon then bent down to study it.

"What was this thing?" he asked, still choked up from his rising emotions.

"A Lost Maiden," Storm answered. "It's said their deaths were so tragic that the souls can never find peace until they get revenge on someone similar to the person who killed them. That one must had died at the hands of a Demon Hunter."

"I see. . ."

She waited patiently for him to say something else. When nothing else came though, she walked wearily up to him, placed a tentative hand on his shoulder, then pulled back when he flinched lightly at her touch.

"Do they always play with people's heads?" His voice was lightly even.

"You mean the Lost Maidens?" He nodded. "Yes, they want to make their victims hurt as much as they have."

"So they looked deep within their prey's heart for the most vulnerable memory," he concluded.

"Something like that," Storm agreed. Then something clicked in her head: someone he loved once was washed away in a river, but who? With her most empathetic voice she could use, she asked very gentle, "Did someone you love drown?"

Balthier rose with a small twitch in his shoulder at the memory. But there was something else there, too, that he couldn't place a finger on, something that felt almost like. . . fear. Usually he had no problem with telling people about Halissa, but those were people he wasn't that close too. If he started to open up to Storm about his past, then what else would he open up about? The woman was growing on him. And that scare him more than anything. _I don't want to hurt anymore because of love._

"She was my sister," he finally answered her, after a few minutes of silence, though his tone was cold and dead even. "Come, we have a demon to kill."

She watch with her mouth wide open at him as he walked off through the overgrowth. Was it something she said that made him act like this? No, she decided. It was just him being a heartless ass because he had a few tragic encounters in the past that he couldn't move on from! It infuriated her!

Part of him wanted to be open with her and treat her as an equal. The other part wanted to lock her in a cage underground somewhere and forget she ever existed, because he once lost his '_honey bun_' that wasn't even aware of his feeling for her. She felt like punching this man in the face and yelling out so loud that the angels in the heavens could hear '_get over it_'. Yet, she stayed her hand. He had been hurt by something, something he'll never have again, that twisted his way of thinking into believing that nothing good was ever meant for him.

He paused in his trek when she didn't budge from her spot to follow him. His hair, slicked back from the water, dripped still. "Are you coming?" He asked her, concern lining his voice which made it sound softly attractive.

"I thought you didn't want me coming," She flared in remembrance at what he said at the ruins. This man was a bipolar lunatic; one moment colder than ice, then one of the sweetest people in Sanctuary the next.

"Well, it's like you said. You're a Demonslayer, and it's clear that you have the most knowledge about our foes. I guess I could. . . use your help." While he kept his tone light, his minor hesitation told her he still felt reluctant for her to tag along.

"See. I knew you needed my help," She stated cheerfully. In one quick dash, she was at his side with a hand clasped firmly with his.

Balthier, with some apprehension, ghosted a finger over the palm of her hand. His eyes, no longer fiery with rage, locked on her face while a smile flashed briefly on his face. "I only have one request of you."

"What?" She glanced at him quizzically.

"If things become too dangerous, promise me you'll stay back."

"And let you die?" She thought long and hard about accepted this agreement. A little dishonesty wouldn't hurt anyone. She was, afterall, a demon. Being entirely true to her word wasn't really a virtue. "Fine, but if I think I can save you. then I will."

"Deal." He broke his hand from her grip, but instead of retaining distance, he clapped it over her shoulder and brought her into his arms in a friendly manner. 'Let's go; Zelken awaits!"

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><p>Of all the dark gruesome places Zelken could be at, he had to wind up in the fleshy lair of a hatred demon. Its long tar covered tentacles wrapped tightly around his waist, holding him tightly against a blood coated wall. The one beady eye it had peered deep down into his soul to seek out the darkest secrets he held. Zelken stared straight at the demon without even a twitch. His emotion, at the moment, were nonexist along with any thoughts he would have normally had. However, he did let the thought pass him of how he disliked this thing toying with him.<p>

"I see," it whispered manically to him. "I see that the love of your mistress runs deep."

"My duty is to serve her to the best of my ability," he stated calmly, not even blinking.

Its eye bulged from its socket, attached to a little black tentacle, and came closer to the Warlock until it was right up on him. Zelken stared straight ahead. He would not let this demon's games get the better of him. The eye moved to examined him from the sides, its stare barring coldly down on Zelken. A frown, accompanied by a small growl of annoyance, twisted his neutral face as the demon laughed mockingly at him, somehow telling Zelken it had found his most darkest secret.

"Ah, I see," it began again, its bulbous eye coming closer to Zelken's face. "You love her, but she thinks you as only her child!" It bellowed another mocking laugh throughout the lair, causing Zelken to narrow his eyes at the demon. "You would give your very soul up for her, have gave her your very heart, and she still only thinks you of that child she saved so many decades ago! How does it feel not to have your feeling returned by the woman you loved?"

"It does not matter about what I feel. Her will is my command, and I'll serve her happily - no matter the pain." His voice stayed dead even, though there was a minor bite in his tone.

"Of course you say that," the demon pressed on, this time to taunt him into outrage. "That is because you are weak! You don't have the guts to make her yours, so you sit back in agony and let her stab you over and over again. You call yourself a warlock, but have many people have you killed over the four decades of your life?" A vile chuckle rung throughout the lair, successfully making Zelken twitch. "That's right, none. You are weak, and so you suffer."

"This isn't about me," Zelken calmly said. How dare this thing call him weak when all he was doing was being respectful to the woman that had done so much for him?

"Then what is it about," the demon cooed.

"The Demon Hunter," Zelken growled. "Lycia has ordered me to find someone to _provoke _him in order to have her powers unsealed. You more than meet the qualifications for such a task."

"Are you sure that is the reason you came to me?" The demon asked, pausing briefly for a spine-chilling chuckle. "I see inside your heart. You hatred burns strong for that one."

Zelken snarled.

"Oh! I hit a nerve," it mocked. "The weak Warlock is afraid of the Hunter taking his place beside his lady. . ."

"It doesn't matter if anyone replaces me in her life," Zelken choked out; thoughts of being betrayed by his mistress tugged at his chest. "I'm only a human that will one day die way before her time. I only live to serve."

"That's right," the demon agreed, coming closer towards the Warlock. "For nearly forty years you have been satisfying her every need, but now she has grown tired of you and wants someone that is younger, more dangerous."

It stretched out it long blackened neck, its eye retracting back to its socket, then clashed its forehead against Zelken's head. He could feel its vile breath sweep over him like a cloud of flies. "When you die," it whispered to his ear, "you will die alone. You mistress will forsake you, and someone will take your place. And your memory will slowly fade. . . _to black_."

A chill went down Zelken's spine at those last few words. It wasn't the thought of the woman he gave his heart to forgetting that he ever existed but the how much of a reality it was. He knew once he died, Lycia would have someone to take his place. When he died. . . Lycia wouldn't even remember him. And that hurt him more than anything. But he did not come here to have his emotion played with, he came here to seal a deal of his lady.

"It does not matter what she does after I am gone." It was a lie. He cared a lot about her remembering him after he died. "As long as I am able, I will serve her. Until then, I am forever at her side."

"And the Demon Hunter?"

"Will be good game for you. Once Lycia has her powers back, you're free to do anything that you will to him." Then, with most vile smirk he could give, Zelken added, "and feel free to kill him while you're at it. I never cared much for his kind."

The hatred demon backed off a ways to contempt the offer Zelken had given him. A Demon Hunter would be good fuel for once such as itself. Not to mention the tension between the two would be an interesting one to watch. "Just lead the way," it said, releasing Zelken from the tentacles.

The Warlock nodded in agreement. With particles of shadowy light vortexing around them, the two vanished from the lair and prepared to face the Hunter.

* * *

><p>On the other side of the bridge Balthier had jump from, Storm walked hand in hand with the Demon Hunter. When he wasn't being cold and bitter, she found his company to be quite enjoyable. She had asked him about the ways Demon Hunters used to discipline themselves and was actually curious about the techniques they used. It was one subject he was actually talkative about. She let him rambled on about training techniques and all the other stuff without interruption. In the cloudy visage ahead she could see the outline of the cathedral in view so naturally she knew this side of him was about to come to an end.<p>

"I believe I was around eight when I first shot my first crossbow," he had told her with a smile. "I trembled so badly that the bolt pierced right into the ground."

Storm giggled at the thought of him being so clumsy with a crossbow that he couldn't even shoot straight. "Was you really _that _bad?"

"Believe it or not, I was. It took a ton of mentoring from Josen just for me to aim straight." He laughed bitterly at the memory. "I use to give him hell. I'm surprised that he never gave up on me. One of our top arguments was how he always seemed to be so distant with his emotion, always kept his tone dead even. I never understood why. . ."

"Like someone I know, huh?"

Balthier halted midway in his stride. A few steps later, Storm realized he hadn't continue and spun around to look at him. His expression was half and half: half smile, half sadness. He gave her such a bittersweet look that she wondered if she had offended him in some way. He approached her slowly, his hand came up to pat the top of her head as one would do a puppy.

"The reason for my barrier is a whole lot different than his," he said then continued onward without another word.

The remainder of the trek, though lacking in tensity, was spent walking in silence. Storm trailed slightly behind Balthier on the narrow path they walked. Another bridge was just up ahead, and for some reason, Balthier grabbed Storm's hand rather gently as they crossed by it. The act really didn't shock her as much as the fact that he refused to let go after they had crossed it. He kept his eyes averted from her general direction, giving her the chance to study him from the side.

When anger did not cloud her view of him, he actually looked rather handsome. He was a tall lean man with more than enough muscle to get the job done without looking overly bulky. His skin was beautifully tan, and his hair that draped lightly on his shoulders looked to be a smokey black. The stubble on his face added to his charm, but it also told her how much he was not concern for his overall health or hygiene. His natural scent, which was layered behind the smell of blood and grim, was actually quite pleasant to her nose. Bodywise, she was actually attracted to him.

"Why are you staring at me?" he asked her with a slight blush staining his cheeks.

Storm gave off her own blush, only this one was more of embarrassment. "I was just. . . um. . . admiring how handsome you are," she said, unable to come up with anything beyond the truth.

"You think I'm handsome?" he asked, somewhat stunned by the remark.

"No, you're the most ugliest person I ever met," she answered sarcastically. "Yes, you're handsome, at least to me."

He placed his other hand on his waist almost like he was going into some concentrated thought for a math problem a scholar couldn't even solve. He glanced at her, half a smile present on his face. "You know, you're the first person to have ever said that to me."

Storm blinked in disbelief. "You mean. . . no one -. . ." She paused, utterly stun at how no one besides her had told him about how charming he was. "THEN WHAT THE HELL KINDA MAN DO THESE WOMEN LIKE!? GOATMEN!?" She yelled at the top of her lungs, loudly enough to scare off a flock of birds a mile away from them.

Laughter as loud as her yelling echoed through the woods. Balthier hunched over with his hands over his stomach and tears in his eyes, laughing manically at her. With her fist balled, Storm stomped a foot down in anger for the Demon Hunter laughing at her serious question.

"What so funny!?" she fumed. "I was being dead serious!"

"Its just. . ." Another burst of laughter wash over Balthier, only more calmer. "How you put it. . . I'm sure there's been a few who thought I was but never said anything. I was never the type to care for such thing, anyhow."

"Yeah. Well, you would be a lot more attractive if you didn't smell like blood or have the attitude of a bipolar lunatic," She intoned, while still being serious, somewhat humorously.

"If a woman is not able to handle my unstable personality, then she is quite not worthy of having me," he teased. His expression sobered then, and he let out a wistful sigh. "Not that any woman could survive me," he whispered under his breath.

Storm felt a tug on her heart at how down he sounded all of a sudden. This was a man who could go from warm to cold in a press of a button, nothing but a broken toy sitting on a shelf waiting to be played with again but knowing it would never be new again. While the scars were missing from the outside, inside he was covered in them - most of them caused by her kind. She wanted to fix some of those scars. But how could she when he was just suppose to be a guinea pig in some perfect plan designed by her father?

"Why would you say that?" she asked him softly.

"No woman could survive through all of my misfortunes," he replied. He turned on his heels to start down the path once again, his hand by his side, tightly closed. "Come, the cathedral is just up ahead."

She said no more to him until they had arrived at the cathedral's steps. Inside, there was a giant hole made all the way past the crypts, separating the entrance from the nave. It was amazing how something could have done that without tearing the whole place to pieces. And her, being the curious person she was, just had to ask her friend about it.

"What made this?"

A little sound, along the lines of a scoff, could be heard coming from the Demon Hunter. He eyed her in a disregarding manner. "Would you believe me if I said an angel made it?"

A jolt ran through her, succeeding in stunning her with disbelief. She had heard the rumors that circled around, but she never fully believed them until now. At that moment, something clicked within her mind, something that made her shiver. She looked up at the man standing before her in a way that would make someone think he grew wings. The reason her father insisted on this particular man wasn't because he was a Demon Hunter at his wits end but because he was the Nephalem she had heard so much about! In the moment of realization, the entire game changed.

This wasn't a man she could toy around with. This man had enough power deep inside him to not only to resist her but also to destroy her without a second thought.

"You know an angel?" She asked, wanting to know if this angel was the one she thought it was.

"I know many. Although, Tyrael is my personal favorite."

Her heart pounded at that name. She was right! This man was the Nephalem, and he did know the angel she had set out to kill, the Archangel of Justice, Tyrael.

"That's awesome," she cheered, trying to keep herself from sounding shock. "Maybe I could meet him sometimes?"

"Maybe," He considered. "But right now we have a Warlock to kill."

Storm examined the giant gap between them and the nave. The area around the hole was too unstable to really get close to, and no one could possibly jump that far. Or, maybe they could! She took her spear from its pocket, and with one good throw, jabbed it in the wall where the diameter of the gap ran. They both turned their heads toward each other. Balthier, apparently thinking her idea was brilliant, nodded his head in approval with a smile.

He sprinted forth towards the edge, somersaulted on top of the spear, then vaulted off of it safely to the other side, somehow not jarring the weapon from its spot. Storm mimicked him soon after, only she applied more pressure to free her weapon from its stone wedge. She landed on the other side, stumbling. Balthier threw a supporting arm around her to help her regain balance.

The nave of the cathedral was pitch black. Debris, mostly broken pieces of what use to be pews, scattered throughout the aisles. Overhead a chandelier floated, unlit. They walked carefully and quietly towards the altar, where a figure cloaked in shadows awaited them.

"Ah, so you come at last!" The cultured voice was vaguely familiar. "I see you brought a friend!"

"Where is the girl, Zelken?" Balthier's voice echoed through the empty cathedral.

"Don't worry. You will see her soon enough. Although, she may be a little bit on the graveside." A chuckle erupted from the Warlock as Balthier growled.

"I'll kill you before any harm comes to her!"

Balthier rapidly pulled out his crossbows from their holsters and took aim at the Warlock. Bolts soared through the room towards Zelken. However, the Warlock only grinned as the projectiles seeking to take his life were turned to ash by the barrier around him.

"Alas, good boy, at this moment you seem to be able to do any real harm to me."

Balthier glared at the man who dared to taunt him with a mocking laugh. "Don't worry," assured Zelken, stepping forward. "I have a friend who is eager to meet you. Perhaps you two will enjoy tearing each other apart?" The Warlock laughed then teleported away.

Just then, torches lit themselves in various place around the nave. Balthier turned at each one, noticing the strange purple light connecting each one of them. It was a pentagram. An ominous barrier stroke up toward the ceilings, seeking to trap the two allies in. At the last second, Balthier shoved Storm out of the barrier, her eye wide with shock.

"Bal-"

"Go! Find Zelken! I'll fight whatever that bastard has sent after me."

Storm nodded shrewdly at him. In the blink of an eye, she vanished off to hunt down the Warlock, and perhaps the young woman too. Balthier let a smile form over his face for a brief moment. He liked having her around.

He focused his attention to the center of the nave. Up above, a tar-ladened demon manifested before his eyes - one-eyed with about ten tentacles attached to a slug like body. He reloaded his crossbows and pointed them straight at the abomination. Unknowingly to him, he was in the fight of his life. And maybe his very own sanity.

* * *

><p><strong>Next chapter may be seeing some sparks from our growing couple! And as always, please review! I also have a question for you guys: What do you think about Storm as a character? If she doesn't seem like a strong main character, rest assure that will be fixed pretty soon! :) <strong>


	7. Ongoing Trials

**Sorry for the long waiting period for this chapter! Between the last semester of school, working on revision, and other events its been a pretty hectic time for me. I know I made the promise that this chapter I would have chapter one revised, but I can promise you that the next update will have the revision. :) It will set the story back one or two chapters, but I think it is a inconvenience that's well worth it. Anyways. I hope you guys enjoy. **

* * *

><p>A bombardment of bolts flew past their target, a tar-laden tentacle, and jabbed straight into the ground. Balthier let out a curse under his breath as he quickly reloaded one of his crossbows then proceeded to shoot at the oncoming appendage, bolts stinging at it like harmless bees. A growl, more of frustration than a taunt, vibrated freely in the Demon Hunter's throat at the extent of this demon's composition - part tar, part sluggish slim. His bolts wouldn't work on this thing. That meant he would have to resort to using explosives, some of which he did not have many to spare.<p>

Balthier leaped out of the way of the demonic tentacle seeking to crush him under its great weight. Rubble flew from the impact on the floor, raining down over the Demon Hunter like daggers. He managed to dodge the biggest, more dangerous pieces of debris, but try as he might, he couldn't dodge all of the little sharp rocks that came scraping across his body. Most were deflected off of him by the plated armor he wore, but a few tore at his vest and cut across his unprotected face.

Another tentacle swept across the room, attempting to send Balthier flying into the electric barrier surrounding them. He vaulted over it, however, while reaching into his pouch to retrieve three sticky grenades - little spiked balls of explosives. He threw them at the third appendage whipping around him then slipped away to dart behind one of the six marble pillars supporting the ceiling.

A few quick beeps of the grenades sent an explosion Balthier felt radiating behind his back. He glanced around the side of the pillar at the severed leg - the part still attached to the demon waved wildly in the air, spewing a tar-like substance on the ground. He grinned at the effect - and grinned even more at the painful wails the demon cried. Having brought himself a little time, the Demon Hunter fetch his bolas from his pouch then glanced over his wounds, noting his exact condition - a few scrapes, but nothing serious.

An angry roar emanated from above him, and he knew that all his borrowed time had run short. The demon lashed an appendage into the pillar Balthier was just behind then sent another one sweeping towards the Demon Hunter, who had darted to the other side of the room. He latched a bomb on the new pillar he hid behind then sprinted out into the open to throw the bola he gripped at the first thing that assaulted him. Both explosives went off with a flashing bang and two more legs fell from their master's body. Balthier snickered while he watch the legs crash around him, his legs spread with his hand propping him up after he nearly slipped on the blood that covered the ground.

"Arrogant fool!" the demon raged. "You think you hate our kind, little human? In reality, you need us to survive!"

"Shut up!" was the automatic response that was shouted out. "I don't need anyone to survive!" Then it occurred to him, he did need someone in order to survive. Anyone who would stay beside him - a companion to keep the loneliness at bay - but not demons.

Laughter bellowed from the hideous creature. "What is a Hunter without his prey? What would you do if my kin went extinct?"

It was a question Balthier had pondered time and time again. What would he do if his prey abandoned him? The conversation he had with Storm back at the inn before Lyndon arrived raced through his mind,of how they had both tried to coax each other to quit fighting. He wanted her to put down her weapon and search for a life away from the bloodshed, for her to find the happiness he had wanted for Leah. And she saw the toll the battles took on him, everything from mental to emotional to physical. Suddenly, he knew exactly what he would do.

"I don't need demons to survive," he growled. He threw two bolas at the two tentacles that crept up behind him, never bulging from his spot as the explosives detonated. The blast sent his dark mane blowing over his face. his eyes glew silver from under the black curtain.

The demon chuckled. "Ah yes. All you need is a memory of a dead girl." Its tone was mocking.

"Shut up! You have no right to talk about my life."

"I see the grief that lies behind that rage, boy," it countered. "It affects your life everyday, even the whelping relationship with the Demonslayer is base on how she reminds you of… _Leah." _The name was a bemused whisper.

The sides of Balthier's mouth and eye twitched with anger. "How dare you.. a defiled creature… say her name!" The last three words were pure screams of anger and grief as he lunged forward at the demon, his eyes shimmering crimson red.

A grin swept across the demon's face as Balthier dived right into its trap. A slime coated tentacle snaked between the two in order to block the rage-induced attempt the Demon Hunter made at diving a dagger deep into the demon's heart. The dagger plunged into the mush much like a splinter pricking into a leg. Balthier's lips curved into a teeth baring snarl when the limb closed around him then suspended him into the air.

"I see I've hit a nerve," mocked the demon. Balthier replied with an angry growl, teeth still flashing. However, the Demon Hunter's expression quickly changed into a sly smirk.

At the last moment, Balthier had attached a sticky grenade onto the creature's leg. A red dot blinked rapidly on the surface of the bomb followed by a loud explosion. Unluckily for Balthier, he had been too close of the bomb's proximity, taking a powerful blow from the explosion. He was slung from the severed arm onto the floor, a shower of blood rained down on him.

The creature's last limb flung itself down at the staggered Demon Hunter who barely stumbled out of the way. Balthier dropped to the ground, his head pounding from the blast and vision swimming in and out. The tentacle swept across the room too quickly for the Demon Hunter to avoid. Balthier barely comprehended being slung across the room and almost blackedout when he came in contact with the barrier. A jolt of electricity sizzled through his body while a cry of extreme agony filled the nave. Balthier fell unconsciously to the ground, a stream of smoke followed him, and the horrid screams were replaced by a demonic laughter.

Balthier forced himself to arouse, though his body, still burning from the shock, twitched at the electric currents still running through him. His blurry gaze locked on to a blot in the center of the room, apparently the demon. It inched closer to him one step at a time. He saw what looked like a black streak of ink stretching out to him, the end of it sharply pointed. The Demon Hunter braced himself for the pain he was about to endure.

The pain that course through him was agonizing, even soul ripping, lasting only a few seconds but feeling like a lifetime. The sharp point of the tentacle pierced into the ground. Balthier took a deep breath, relieved that he was able to roll away in time to avoid being impaled. But he was not out of danger just yet.

He threw his last bola around the limb, almost losing consciousness as he scrambled away from the deadly explosive. The blast sent a spray of gore across the area, coating the fleeing Demon Hunter. He took his last three sticky grenades from him pouch and chunk them blindly at the limbless demon.

Balthier came crashing down to the ground. His body was exhausted and aching; his heart fluttered, skipping several beats. The bombs went off, and a loud cry of anguish erupted. Blood splattered everywhere right in front of his very eyes. _Did I get him? _he asked himself silently, everything fading to black. A demonic laughter came from thin air. Swirls of a black cloud formed right in front of Balthier. Then the demon emerged, complete with fresh new limbs.

"Now it's your turn to… _suffer,"_ it said, grin wide on its face.

* * *

><p>"So <em>he's <em>the Nephalem? " Lycia did not seem convinced as she watch the battle wage on through a crystal ball in her hands.

"You mean you didn't know?" asked Zelken, who was rising up from a table Lycia had pin him to during their _alone time _together. He rolled his right shoulder that had gone stift from lying on such a hard surface and silently watched the crystal ball be thrown to the ground, shattering into crystallized dust.

"I guess my father forgot to mention it." She laughed bitterly. "He must be trying real hard to get rid of me."

Zelken let out a cocky chuckle while he made his way to his mistress. His arms snaked around her core then he leaned his head in beside hers. "Nothing can get rid of you, my love. Especially not Diablo," he whispered into her ear.

"Unless I'm no longer needed by him.," Lycia added. There was a depressive quality in her voice that made Zelken's heart snap. "The only reason he helped you set me free was because of the Hunter."

His muscles tightened around her core at the mention of Balthier. He was beginning to hate that man's guts with a passion, and the words the hatred demon said to him only added fuel to that fire. Zelken was tempting to do anything it took to ensure_ that_ Demon Hunter would not take his place beside his mistress. Then, almost automatically, doubt course through him, bring him down into an all time low. Questions began to fill his head about his relationship with the Aspect. Was it just sexual?

"What are you going to do about him, my mistress?" he asked, burying his face in the crease of her neck.

"I don't know," she whispered. "In truth, I do not wish to kill him."

"Why?" Zelken's voice was strained.

"He's consumed by grief and vengeance, basically one of us. You know how I treat out subjects - those who obey, at least."

"Recently, very well and considerate - which begs the question, my Lycia -," He paused, letting her turn around to gaze into his dark eyes. "Why have you gone soft? You usually seething with a desire to kill, my love. You use to even rip minions a part just for looking at you wrong." He cringed at the torture she use to put him through, albeit more sexual than anything.

"I've notice a strange.. guilt," she told him. "It's something very foreign to me."

"Do you think it's from-"

"I don't know what's it from," she interrupted. "And this man my father wants me to kill quirks my interests. He has this same feeling I've been having of late."

Zelken's heart skipped a beat. "You find him interesting?"

"Some ways more than others," she replied. Lycia wrapped her arms around Zelken's neck and pulled herself closer to him. The Warlock's automatic response was to embrace his love tightly as though she was the only solid thing in the world. "No one can be more interesting than you, Zellie," she whispered to him, her cold breath ghosting over his face.

He looked at her in pain, almost as if he just witnessed a grand betrayal. "Am I that important to you?" He hoped she'd tell him the cold bitter truth.

"You are," she stated bluntly, her voice soft and full of love. "You're the most loyal servant I have and almost like my own child." _Child. _That word stung him worser than a thousand wasps. "You're the most important thing I have, Zellie."

"And the only servant around that you haven't torture to insanity," he added.

"You're my personal favorite. Not to mention the first human to ever serve me." That flirtatious tone she used made him want to lean in and kiss her, but he held his place.

"And I will continue to serve until the end," he said instead, keeping his voice honorable and disciplined.

Her hands trailed across his neck, arousing his need to be with her, before she delicately caressed his face. Almost as if she was reading him, Lycia leaned in to brush her lips against his in a light passionate kiss. Zelken's eyes fluttered shut. His lips sought hers, and she pulled back, leaving him deprived of his most basic need. He let out a small whimper, eyes fluttering open, and he gave her a look of torment, his dark eyes shimmering in agony. However, she still remained close to him, close enough for him to feel her waist grind against him.

"I hope you always will," she whispered into his ear. Then, she abruptly broke the spell that was cast over Zelken by moving away from his warm embrace. His face was tinted red, weather from love or from anger even he did not know. "By the way, Zellie," she began, eyeing him from head to toe. "You may want to… um… put some clothes on… before, um, Balthier finds you. He might… get the wrong idea."

His face turned bright red, as red as his dark tan would let him. "Um, I will.. What about you? What are you going to do, my Lycia?"

"I have to go save my jackass," she replied, half amused.

"_Yours?" _Outrage, accompanied by hurt and betrayal streamed through his roughly accented voice. "Well, I see he has your fancy," he added flippantly, crossing his arms.

"I see I've hurt you. What, did you want Balthier as your own?" Lycia gave him a mischievous look to intensify the suggestion.

"The exact opposite!" the Warlock blurted out. "I just want to-" He froze in his words, unable to speak the final part in fear.

"Be mine?" she finished, watching him take a hard gulp. "And you are. You're my child, my loyal servant, and my lover."

"But not your _mate," _he mumbled, letting a sigh express his distress. "There's… a difference."

"Oh, I think I see now," Lycia said, somewhat amused. "You're scared that this man is going taking a higher place is my life." She laughed at the revelation.

That mocking laugh made Zelken shrink back like some mangy dog being disowned by its owner. He shot her a hurt look, hoping that it would pierce through her icy heart, and hung his head dejectedly. "Don't play on my fears, Lycia," he whispered on the verge of tears.

"I'm not," she intervened, reassuringly. "I just think its silly that you of all people would think that."

He gave her a sad, albeit enigmatic, smile. "You're right," he agreed. "It's a foolish thing to think of. Forgive me, my mistress." He bowed down in respect, then reached for his robe and pants.

"You're forgiven," said Lycia. "Now, Zelken Azerben of Kehjistan, I command you to take care of our little bitch once and for all."

"It will be done, my mistress." Zelken bowed once more, this time clothed, then watched Lycia, _his _Lycia, take the form of a wrench human before bolting off to help a useless man.

Her footsteps trailed off down the halls of the cathedral, and Zelken turned to grab his ceremonial dagger from the table. He cut a slit in the palm of his hand, a little grimace crossing him at the pain. He drew a summoning circle with the blood seeping from the open wound and soon was standing in the middle of a purple shimmering ritual. In the back of his mind he was conscious of the uselessness he felt of not being able to kill a weak woman himself, but he told himself he had a reason for that - a memory he wished he could forget. He resorted back on his ritual, reminding himself of the cost he would pay if he wasn't on guard for the creature emerging.

A shaky high-pitched laugh filled the halls from a white vapor dancing across the room. It twirled around the pillars, launching itself to dance on the chandelier above before streaming down in front of the Warlock. It took the form of a distorted male, wrapped head to toe in ghostly bandages, save for the little space where a white glowing eye beamed. Its arms slicked into swords. Zelken grinned at the ghostly thing… a Wraith of Vengeance.

* * *

><p>The battle waged on against all odds. Somehow, Balthier held back the onslaught of brutal blows seeking to kill him off, but he couldn't hold off forever. He only used one crossbow now. His other hand dripped in blood from the wound it tried to cover on his right side. The new tentacles whipped under the Demon Hunter, tripping him. He tumbled painfully to the ground and rolled out of the way of a sharp appendage. Balthier stumbled up onto his feet, though his legs buckled shakily under him. Laughter rumbled through the nave, and the demon turned to eye him with its one large blacken eye.<p>

"Weak," it mocked. "It is no wonder your family died… You were too weak to save them, just as you are too weak to save the girl…"

"Shut the hell up!" Balthier screamed. "I'll make your blood fall like rain when I'm done with you, demon! Then we'll see who's the weakest!" He knew he was in no position to make threats, but this demon was coming close to making Balthier's last nerve snap.

"Big words for someone who cannot even tell a puny woman how he felt about her," it retorted. "Or did you get the message that she was just using you? Kind of like the Demonslayer is?"

"Storm...?" It made sense that she would use him. The two barely got along, but he already made a foolish choice of letting himself become too close to her. Myriam's words rushed back to him. '_Be careful of the Storm ahead',_ she had warned before he left Westmarch. Had she meant the Demonslayer?

The demon bellowed another mocking laugh. "That's right - she using you to her own end. And when she gets her reward, she will be done with you."

"Shut up," the Demon Hunter growled again. He had been used by Leah, Adria, even Diablo himself. He would not be used by anyone else, especially just because he loved them. "I'm no one's puppet!"

Balthier, blinded by rage, leaped forward with his last explosive, a bola, in hand. He chunk it straight at the demon's head, but a limb hit it back at the Demon Hunter. Balthier flashed away from the deadly bola heading towards him. It wrapped around the pillar, exploding instantly, crumbling the pillar into pieces. He jumped out of the way of the chunks of marble crashing down, but his visage was clouded by dust. The demon took advantage of the situation, launching a tentacle forward toward the blinded man.

"Balthier!" a feminine voice cried out from above, probably from one of the four balconies. A black shadow warped beside him just as the silhouette of the oncoming appendage came into view. A arm threw itself around him, and a force pulled him away from being crushed. He, along with a familiar body, tumbled one over the other until the momentum faded and he landed on his back. He felt supple hands pin him down by the shoulder, weight comfortably resting on him. Balthier slowly opened his eyes, fixating himself of the green orbs staring at him in shock.

"Storm…?" he called out groggily.

"Stay still. You're hurt," she replied. Her voice, quiet and soft, lull Balthier into a peace of mind.

"I'll live," he murmured.

Storm vaulted over a tentacle that swiped between the two. Luckily, it was too high up to hit the Demon Hunter. He leaped up to his feet, his legs almost giving out on him, and scrambled across the room for his crossbows that had been sent ascewed. He backflipped over another appendage sweeping by and grabbed his last crossbow, firing rapid shots to daze the demon. in the corner of his eye, he saw Storm take her spear then charged directly at the thing without no second thought about what she was doing.

"Storm, wait!" But she did not halt her progression.

The demon tried to shield itself from the oncoming threat by building a wall with its appendages. Storm slipped through the closing gap between them, however, and was quickly met with two other tentacles coming in for a kill. She slashed cleanly through the one meeting her head on, and Balthier staggered the other one by lining it full of bolts. He noticed the tip of her spear turning into that blackened crimson glow he'd seen once before and knew the demon was in for a fatal blow. Wounded, the Demon Hunter decided best to hang back and staggered the tentacles with his bolts until Storm could rip the demon to shreds with whatever means Demonslayers used.

With a brutal strike of her weapon, Storm tore through the entire side of the demon, its tarish blood poured from the fatal wound. A tentacle snapped back toward the Demonslayer, throwing her back down to the ground. She skidded across the floor on her feet, another appendage rapidly descending down on her. Balthier jolted closer to shoot but stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the sinister smirk across Storm face, noting her eyes were redder than blood.

Shadows formed around her, swallowing her into the abyss, just as the appendage closed in on the last few inches. He saw the black cloud dance up from the appendage and around one of the last remaining pillars. From the top, it streamed down right above the demon's head and transformed into the malice Demonslayer. Her spear impaled straight through the demon's head, and the lone eyeball rolled out onto the floor, still attached by a thin wire of flesh.

"Balthier, shoot the eye!" Storm called.

He didn't need to be told a second time. Almost instinctively, Balthier bolted around to the side the eye rolled to and took aim at the blackened orb. A tentacle wrapped around him, but he skidded away in time to avoid being crushed. The last few remaining bolts loaded in his crossbows launched across the gap between them, assaulting the thin twine of flesh enough to snap it. The eye flew up into the air, crashing straight down in front of the Demon Hunter's feet. The yellow pupil looked up to Balthier, who was reloading his crossbows. He pointed one directly at it.

"Vengeance," he growled then shot the vulnerable eye through with a bolt.

A loud scream of agony erupted over the nave while the demon bursted into a pile of tar-filled gore. Its blood splattered everywhere, and the barrier faded from around them. Weak from his injuries, Balthier fell toward the ground, bracing himself for a hard impact that never came. Instead, he fell comfortably into the arms of the petite Demonslayer. He looked up to her face, a smile radiating from him.

"Are you okay?" she asked him. "You're bleeding."

"I think...so," he rasped. "Where's Zelken?"

"He trapped me in a room full of Wraiths then I heard you screaming. I thought something bad had happened… and… and… I'm so glad I made it in time. I thought I've lost you!"

Balthier let out a bitter chuckle. "You were scared of losing me?" he asked, half way believing her. "Me of all people?"

"Yes," she answered bluntly. "But we need to hurry! That woman could be in danger!"

He jerked up at the reminder of girl that been kidnapped. "Where did he take her?"

Storm pulled him up by the hand, and sprinted to a hallway off to the side of the nave. "This way!'' she called.

They raced through a maze of halls and rooms, darting swiftly across railing and stairs. Storm stopped periodically to check her surroundings, apparently deciding if she was going the right way. Two white veils of mists danced across the roof above them before charging down with arms morphed into swords.

"What are these things?" Balthier shot to Storm while he pulled his crossbows from their holsters.

"Wraiths," she mumbled. "Careful, they're fast."

"Good." He shot her a wicked smile.

When Storm told him that these things were fast, she meant it. Shooting them was like shooting a blink of light, only harder since they could dodge right in between bolts. Even Storm had a hard time touching them.

"Balthier!" She called. "Shoot a bolt towards me!"

"What?" he yelled back, outraged. "Are you crazy?"

"Just trust me!"

Without even waiting to see if Balthier agreed to endangered her life by shooting at her, she thrust herself in the middle of the Wraiths, drawing both their attention onto herself. Balthier hesitated, not trusting her well enough to shoot her down with his crossbow, but nevertheless shot a bolt directly at the Demonslayer. She saw the projectile flying hastily at her and countered the attack with a red disk of magic. The two projectiles clashed into each other, and a vortex of unholy magic formed, drawing the Wraiths into it while shooting beams of pure energy on all sides.

Balthier watched in awe as the Wraiths were torn apart by the vortex, stunned that such a woman had so much power. She was incredible. He was astonished by the dark pink light show shining brightly around her, tinting her pale skin with color and making her wonderfully green eyes go black. This woman was amazing to him.

Screamed echoed down the halls, breaking poor Balthier from his trance. Storm moved past him, grabbing his hand in the process, and jerked him down the hall where the scream echoed from. I the end room, Balthier saw blood splatter over the walls and a limb body fell beside the doorway. His heart cracked at the bloody visage of Carly's sister laying on the floor, blood coated and no longer alive. Then all that shock was replaced by a bitter bloodthirsty need for vengeance.

He rushed in through the doorway, showering anything in the room with his bolts. A wraith cried out with its last miserable breath, and a magical shield incinerated the bolts flying at the Warlock. Fireballs the size of a head blasted around the Demon Hunter, barely missing him.

"Damn you to Hell, Zelken!" Balthier screamed, charging at the Warlock.

A snap of the finger sent the Warlock teleporting to the balcony above, away from any potential danger, but it did not stop Balthier for shooting some bolts at him, unable to clearly see if any hit the Warlock or not. To counter, Zelken fired a blast of energy at the Demon Hunter, missing him by mere inches.

"I see you finished off my friend for me," he said. "I appreciate the favor, but it seems as if I can't stay to chit chat." He grinned down at Balthier, pulling the amulet from his robe. "I'm sure this is what you came for? Or was it the woman? I'm so sorry about the little wench, but Wraiths are indeed bloodthirsty. Better luck next time." He chunk the amulet to the ground below then began to warp.

"No!" Balthier shouted, leaping forward.

"We'll see each other again in Kingsport, my friend," said the Warlock, then vanished without a trace.

Balthier growled in anger, feeling his craving for revenge growing. He reached out to grab the amulet falling from above, barely registering Storm shouting at him not to touch it. It landed neatly in the palm of his hand then a bright red light sprouted from it, blinding Balthier. He felt the raging cries of a thousand lost souls course through his body, angry voices calling out for vengeance at everything in existed. But it was this extreme power he felt that shook him, power enough to obliterate everything in Creation if in the wrong hands, dark corrupted power. Power that could only belong to a Demon Lord. A demonic screech filled his ears, and then he dropped to his knees.

"Balthier!" Storm cried out to him, racing toward him. She drop to her knees beside him, placing her hand tentatively on his chest. "Are you okay?"

"What just happen?" he asked, still dazed. I... I never felt… such a desire to kill before."

"I… don't know," said Storm, who began pacing nervously around the room. "I hope I'm wrong, but I think... that amulet held some of Lycia's power. In other words, I think you just freed the Aspect of Vengeance, Balthier."

He snapped his unbelieving gaze onto her, his icy blue eyes glazed with fright. "I did what!?"

"It was all a trap! Damn it!" Storm kicked a chair to the floor in a burst of rage. "He lure us here and got you all worked up so he could free Lycia!" She sighed to calm herself.

"Bastard! I'll kill him!" Balthier bolted up, peering around the room for any signs of the Warlock, but he was already gone. "Damn it!" He lashed out against a feeble wall in pure rage, punching a hole straight through it. He heaved in an attempt to calm himself, which worked about like holding a stick over a deep puncture.

Storm moved closer toward the corpse and nudged the dead woman with her foot, pity clear on her delicate face. "What should we do about her?"

"We'll burn her and this whole place down," replied Balthier, who was making his way toward the corpse. All this rage became replaced with sorrow. "I... don't think we're able to bring her all the way to New Tristram, and this place is probably filled with demons."

"But how?" Storm whipped around to him, her eyebrow quirked inquisitively.

He smiled at her. "I'm sure a fiery woman like yourself could come up with something."

"I see… And how am I suppose to sprout fire?"

"I'm sure you can think of something," he shot back, rubbing his hand roughly across the top of her head. "I'll be waiting outside, but please hurry. I don't think I have that much energy in me." He grimaced in pain, letting out a sharp breath. His hand trailed to the wound at his side which still bled. Balthier gentle flipped his palm over to show it covered in blood. They both knew that the only reason he hadn't fainted was due to pure will.

"Fine. I'll hurry," Storm grumbled.

"Thank you," he whispered, then turned on his heels to leave the room.

She waited until the Demon Hunter's aura faded from the cathedral then glanced in the far side of the room that lurked in shadows. From it, Zelken emerged grim, his fist tightened into rocks. He stepped close to his mistress but retained enough distance to make his statement clear. Blood dripped from his shoulder.

"Did he hurt you?" she asked him.

"Damn if I be hit by another one of his fucking bolts!" he yelled out. His hand wrapped around his wounded shoulder. "I hate that man with a passion, Lycia."

"Now is not the time to whine about what you like and don't like. You either deal with it or suffer, Zelken," Storm stated coldly to him. She was being his superior, not his lover. "Make the cultist ready at Kingsport," she commanded. "And tell that wench of a Sea Witch that her request has been denied."

"And what if I don't?" Zelken pressed. It was clear he was furious about being injured and having no sympathy from his mistress.

"Then you will feel the my wrath in a way you have never experience before!" She screamed. "Now, Zelken Azerben, I command you to carry out my orders!"

Zelken knew he was walking on the edge of the knife, but he was a defiant man that always stated what he will to anyone, even his precious Lycia. He gritted his teeth hard enough to hear his teeth crack. By now, any other servant would have felt the anguish of a thousand molten needles. Luckily for him, he had special privileges that others would kill for.

Blood ran down his wounded arm, dripping into a little puddle on the ground. His gaze was set firmly on the woman in front of him. He knew he wasn't mad at her. He couldn't be mad at her - not after all she had done for him. If anything, he was taking his anger and hurt out on the most dangerous target around.

"I will do what you will, Lycia," he finally announced after a long tensed silence. "But I will not go to Kingsport injured - it can wait a day."

Storm drew closer to him, her steps firmly vicious. There was that cold blaze in her eyes - the same blaze she gave before she ripped a man into pieces. "So you defy your mistress?" she asked bemused.

"No," Zelken firmly stated. "Just ill prepared since - you know - I have a bloody fucking wound on my shoulder!" His words were both humorous and harsh.

Storm knew then that he was hurt more emotionally than physically. Her expression soften into the loving motherly side that only he was allow to see. Still, it made her curious as to why he thought he was being neglected, especially after all the passion she had shown him the past few days. "Then do what you need to but don't linger for a moment," she replied soft yet cautiously.

"Relax, my love." He gave his best smile, though his blood still seethed underneath, "There's no way the Hunter can make it to Kingsport in a fortnight."

"I just don't want him to suspect anything beforehand is all, Zellie."

"And he won't," the Warlock quickly added. "You have my word, love." He bowed down in respect to his mistress, all anger seeped away, save for the glint he held for the Demon Hunter. He met Storm's gaze with hard eyes that lacked in bitterness, instead they radiated pain.

Her lips quirked into that pleased smiled that told him he had served her well - a smile only he knew. It was one that was well worth a bolt to the shoulder. "Thank you, Zelken," she murmured.

She approached him steadily, bringing her hand to caress his cheek, tracing her thumb over his strong jaw. She leaned in to brush her lips against his in another teasing kiss. He grew tired of her teasing games and clashed his lips brutally against hers. Hands cradled her head while his tongue slipped through her teeth, but it was too soon that the lovers pushed away, grin wide on their faces for what the Warlock dared to do. He was playing with fire - fire that he'd been addicted to for decades.

"Meet me by the overlook tonight. I'll bring you news from Kingsport and maybe even a gift." He flashed her a wicked smirk.

"I hope it has something to do with you," she said with a lustful undertone. A jolt of pleasure ran through him when she grabbed his crotch.

"Maybe it will," Zelken whispered in her ear. "Depends on how bad I have it coming."

They said nothing else after that. There was no need to. He kissed her lips one more time then warped off to wherever he found fit. Storm stood alone in the room for a moment, looking at the spot her servant vanished from. She fell a quell of foreign emotions roar through her chest down to her stomach, making her stick to the core. It was a sick feeling accompanied by a vague feeling of the outrage she had for minions betraying her, but there was another one - a stabbing fluttering sensation that she enjoyed. It hurt, whatever this feeling was, yet she found it joyous.

Yet, she was also conflicted. Zelken wanted her in a way she was not mutual to. She never wanted him as a lover, just the child she found in a burnt down village. He convinced her otherwise his sixteenth year, but that was when she was a _full _demon. Her wickedness had allowed her to toy with the man's most fragile emotion out of pure curiosity. Now, in her state of consciousness, she found herself being devour by the turmoil she had cause to a man she loved. She wished he would get over his obsession of her, though she knew it would probably kill him.

Storm sighed in frustration at herself. It was foolish to think about such things. The man had suffered worst by her own hand. Why would he not survive a denial? The emotions, these weak human emotions, she felt would soon fade from her, and she would be the demon she once was. The sooner, the better. Human, while interesting, were weak. She turned away from the spot, walking out in search of Balthier.

She found him sitting outside in a lone patch of grass, twiddling with a piece between his fingers. It seemed like he was not worried about the wound at his side, which still bled. She quietly approached him, not feeling up to dealing with his unagreeable side. It must had been several minutes after she sat down beside him before Balthier acknowledged her presence with a low grunt. He flashed her glance, face resembling stone.

She was the first to speak. Curious, she asked, "why don't you just use one of those healing potions?"

He looked straight ahead with a whimsical look in his eyes, like he was recalling a bittersweet memory. "Because once I'm out, I'm out."

"But yet, you gave me one for a few scrapes?" She flashed him a look of utter disbelief which reciprocated a smirk from him.

"And now I'm paying the price for it, ain't I?"

"Yeah," she agreed. "But that's your fault." Her brows furrowed in concern. "Will you be alright? I mean… you can make it back, can't you?"

His answer was a simple chuckle.

"I'm serious!" Storm raged, chunking a small pebble her hand found at him. "I don't want you dying on me!"

Balthier stopped chuckling almost immediately upon his friend's concern. Leaning back on an arm, he faced her with a somber expression. "Fear not, my friend," he began in his wise mentoring dialect. "It is merely a flesh wound."

He grimaced in pain, baring through it with small hisses. Storm watched with a heavy feeling tugging at her chest, one she could not identify, at the Demon Hunter laying on the ground with his hands cupping around his wound, the second serious one he received since this morning.

"It hurts," admitted Balthier, "but I should be able to make it back to town. The bleeding isn't that bad, and I've dealt with much worst."

She could almost _taste _the denial in his words, streaming through them like sour ribbons. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure." He got to his feet, stumbling a few steps before turning to Storm, hand outstretched. "Come," he beckoned. "We'll break at the river."

She shook her head on his stubbornness, sighing in the process, but felt a strange fluttering in her chest. He was strong; it was no wonder why he was the Nephalem. He took pain better than any demon could, she could see that. A little wicked though played in the back of her mind; her eyes examined every inch of him from the knees up to his neck, pausing momentarily at his groin and chest. _How would he endure the 'other' kind of torture? _she wondered, taking his hand with ease.

Slowly, they made progress down the cathedral's lonely road. Storm positioned herself on the left side of Balthier with her hand around his back, his wrapping around her neck, so he could lean against her for support. They moved one limping step at a time, not talking much except for the occasional monosyllable, leaving Storm to take in the gloomy dark scenery around her along with the warmth of Balthier. Strangely enough, it felt nice being this close to him, having him being supported by her like this. It was a mutual feeling they both shared, but neither one of them knew it.

"I'm glad that you're here, Storm," Balthier stated, breaking the enjoyable silence.

"Really? I thought I infuriated you."

"You do," he laughed out. "Still, I'm glad I met you. It was actually getting lonely without a partner by my side."

"Oh?" Storm raised a brow. "I thought you was the distant type of person."

"I get lonely just like everyone else," he answered. He gazed straight ahead, though it was clear he was remembering all the long hours he endured without any human contact. "I have friends - one good in particular.I was actually hurt when she left."

"She? I'm guessing you're talking about this girl you liked?"

He laughed. "No, this one was a different one. In fact, she had a fiancee at the time we met. She left shortly after Malthael's defeat. I think out of all the people I know, Lin is the one I miss the most."

"Oh, how come?" Storm tried to keep her voice light, but she started to feel apprehensive about this subject. Still, it was nice to know he was as human as he looked. It would make it easier for her to break him.

"Well, for one thing, she sure kept things lively. Always in trouble, that one. One time we traveled to Caldeum, and every five minutes someone tried to kill her. I never saw a wizard that caused so much chaos like she did, and she did so in a comical way, too. Everything from turning people she dislikes into sheeps to fixing inedible meals, she'd do it." He bursted out laughing from all the good memories.

"Sounds like a troublemaker if I ever heard one," chimed Storm. "I think I'd love to meet her."

"Maybe one day you will," he considered. "You have the bubbly mischievous personality to match, but be warned, she's a touchy person - touchy and sly enough to steal a sane person's virginity."

Storm paused in her steps, the suggestive nature of his tone registered a deeper, more wicked, meaning behind his word. She flushed at the thought his words induced. Balthier, for his part, kept on walking, casually turning around to Storm with a wide grin on his face. He spread his arms out, slightly tilting his head, to indicate another suggestive thought, though somewhat mockingly. She eyed him up and down with her pale face glowing red. Balthier took immense pleasure from her reaction, chuckling at her gaping stunned reaction.

"Really!?" she finally exclaimed. "You of all people!?"

His light chuckle changed into a full out laugh, resulting in Storm running towards him to hit him lightly on the chest. He stepped aside just when her hand was about to come in contact with his chest. She stumble downward, tripping over her own clumsy footing. Balthier hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her to him. Her hand flung up to his chest to keep her from crashing into him. Their eyes met one anothers, faces inches apart. Balthier tightened his grip around her, squeezing her into a secure hug.

His eyelids fluttered halfway closed and the smile on his face slowly faded. His hair draped around his face, giving him a dreamy appearance. Casually, he brushed a strand of hair out of Storm's eyes then brushed the back of his fingers across her cheek. For a moment, they both held their breaths, taking in the moment with puzzlement of what would happen and excitement.

"Everyone needs someone," Balthier finally spoke. "Even those who are afraid to love eventually need someone. Even a Nephalem such of myself needs a moment of affection every now and then." He pushed back from her, breaking the embrace. "Come, the river is just ahead."

Storm watched him leave without another word. The distance he added between them shrouded them alone with their thoughts - both of them wondering of what just transpired. Storm looked up to the full moon above her. Maybe, just maybe, there was more to being human than she was led to believe.

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><p><strong>Ugh, editing this chapter made me feeling like a crappy writer, but then I read some award winning books and go 'yeah, I write good.' T_T Please remember to review and let me know about any mistakes that you find! <strong>


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